(Un)Fortunate Son
by Syl
Summary: Bruce reaches a decision about Damian. Dick disagrees and decides to do something about it.
1. Chapter 1 - Ain't No Fortunate Son

**Summary**: Bruce reaches a decision about Damian. Dick disagrees and decides to do something about it.

(Un) Fortunate Son

By Syl Francis

"_It ain't me…_

_I ain't no fortunate son…" _

_(John C. Fogerty)_

_* D * d * d * D *_

Nightwing expertly brought his motorcycle to a screeching stop, yanked off his helmet and ran across the Cave, making his way to the main computer console. Talia had given Batman her ultimatum—he could save Damian or Gotham City, but not both—and Batman had made his choice.

Gotham City.

When Nightwing overheard Batman informing Talia that he would send Damian to her by sundown, the young vigilante had seen red. He and Batman had been fighting back-to-back in the middle of rioting crowds. The rioters were brandishing whatever blunt objects they had found lying close at hand. Nightwing had been temporarily separated from his former mentor as he was forced to tackle multiple crazies, all under the influence of Leviathan's mind control drugs, before he was able to make his way back to Batman.

Just as he reached the Dark Knight's side, Nightwing heard Talia repeat her ultimatum and Batman acquiesce to her demands. Infuriated, he whirled on Batman about to lambaste him. He checked himself suddenly as he was forced to duck, leap, spin, and kick out at several of the rioters that had converged on them, chanting, "_Leviathan rises!"_

Once again fighting back-to-back, the original Dynamic Duo held off the latest attack. However, before they could be overrun again, the two fired their grapplers and swooped away toward the nearest rooftop. As soon as they landed, Batman began issuing orders.

"Get back to the cave and bring Robin here. Have him pack an overnight bag…His mother will take care of the rest of his needs."

"You can't mean that. You can't send him to her. She's not a mother. She doesn't love him… She's only using him to get back at you! You know what the League of Shadows will do to him!" Nightwing gesticulated frantically as he beseeched Batman to reconsider his unprecedented decision.

"We don't have time to argue. Every second Damian isn't in her custody, Gotham is that much closer to being razed to the ground. Millions could die."

"But he's your son! He's just a little boy. How can you even think of—?"

"It's precisely _because_ he's my son that I have to do this." At Nightwing's dark look, Batman sighed. "I told you about the apocalyptic vision I had. Damian cannot be allowed to become Batman… He'll be personally responsible for the destruction of the world."

Nightwing simply shook his head at Batman's words, unable to look him in the eye. "You are _unbelievable_! You'd turn your own son over to that—that _bitch_—because of some dream vision?" He spoke in a low, angry growl, his stance practically vibrating with fury.

Realizing that he was wasting his time, Nightwing turned in disgust and left without another word to carry out his orders. He made his way across town toward Wayne Tower where he had parked his motorcycle. Livid at Batman, he sped recklessly through the streets of Gotham, which were clogged with more crazies, burnt and overturned vehicles, police barriers, and other battle-strewn debris.

Along the city's business district, blackened storefronts with shattered windows and smashed interiors spewed smoke from recent fires. The skeletal remains of robust businesses were a grim reminder of the path of destruction left in the wake of the rioters.

Racing home, Nightwing didn't think about the far ranging consequences of what he was planning to do; he didn't think about the two warring adults at the center of the Battle of Gotham; he didn't think about what he was going to turn his back on.

What he did think about was a young boy, a too proud and mouthy 10-year-old with the heart of a hero, who was being used as a pawn in his parents' bitter "domestic dispute." He thought about the little boy who was even now probably waiting to hear that he would be offered up as a sacrificial lamb for the "greater good."

Nightwing slammed his helmet on the main computer console as he took a seat. His fingers went flying over the keyboard, as he composed an emergency all-call for help. This was it. Once he sent the emergency message, there would be no turning back. Batman's paranoia regarding metas in Gotham City was notoriously well known among the superhero community. If Nightwing did this, Batman's fury would go stratospheric.

But this wasn't about possibly infuriating Batman. This was about saving Damian.

As soon as his thoughts returned to his former protégé, Nightwing knew that he was doing the right thing. He pressed the transmit button, and felt a momentary stab of relief. Then, taking a deep breath he quickly changed out of his uniform and rushed upstairs.

He had sent the hero-community's version of a 911 call to the Justice League and Teen Titans, not to mention the Justice Society and Batman Inc. If and when the first wave of heroes began arriving to help quell the rioting, thus putting an end to Leviathan's ambition of world domination and Talia's plans to destroy Bruce, Dick knew it would not be a good idea for him to still be in the city. He ran up the long, winding stairs that led to the manor and hurriedly searched for Damian.

"Alfie! Where's Li'l D?" he asked breathlessly, just as Alfred rounded a corner in the hallway, a cleaning cloth in his hands.

"His bedroom, I would imagine, sir." The words were barely out of Alfred's mouth, before Dick again took off toward the family quarters in the east wing of the manor. Concerned, Alfred watched Dick disappear up the back staircase. He had a bad feeling about this. He found himself following slowly in Dick's tracks, afraid of what he'd find out.

Dick jogged lightly down the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps barely echoing off the highly polished, hard wood floors. Once upon a time, he remembered, the hallway floor had been covered with deep blue, wall-to-wall plush carpeting. But, after four highly rambunctious and acrobatic boys with little regard for either the cost of replacing a damaged carpet or the time needed for cleaning it, the hard wood floors proved a necessary compromise.

At the far end of the corridor stood two multi-paned, waist-to-ceiling Georgian windows. The drawn curtains gently fluttered in the fresh breeze that wafted through the open transoms, the barest hint of a familiar fragrance teasing his senses. The east-facing windows generally allowed the unfiltered morning sun to bathe the long corridor in its bright warmth; however, at this time of day the lengthening afternoon shadows had chased away the ambient light, shrouding the living quarters with encroaching twilight.

As he made his way to Damian's room, dormant memories stirred of his early days at Wayne Manor…

The week that Dick arrived, the Georgian windows had been covered by heavy drapes, closed against the morning sun. One day, he drew back the curtains, curious about what lay beyond. He gasped at the spray of rainbow colors that greeted him, basking in the warmth of the waking day, entranced by the picturesque beauty of the well-tended rose garden below.

It was early spring and the rose buds were just beginning to open their petals. A grassy footpath meandered in and around the flower bushes. Carved marble benches were placed in peaceful, out-of-the-way places along the path, inviting the occasional passerby to sit awhile in quiet solitude. Vine-covered trellises arched above and across the footpath at different points, providing much-needed cool shade from the late-summer heat. Nearby, a small fountain splattered merrily, attracting a family of swallows.

A feeling of being watched came suddenly over Dick, and he whirled to find his new guardian standing immediately behind him, gazing at the sun-splashed vista, lost in thought. Red-faced, Dick apologized for opening the curtains and made as if to draw them closed. "I'm real sorry, Mr. Wayne. I-I promise, I won't do it again."

However, before Dick could close the drapes, Bruce stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. Dick still remembered the quiet words that Bruce said to him. "No…leave it, Richard. It's long past time we let the light back in." His enigmatic guardian gave him a slight half-smile, his fingers hesitantly touching Dick's cheek. At the unexpected contact so reminiscent of his parents, Dick beamed up at Bruce. He again looked out to admire the garden and eagerly pointed at a robin that had alighted on the ground.

"Look…a robin! That's my mom's favorite bird!" Dick turned back to where Bruce had been standing, but discovered that he was alone. Apparently, his guardian had left as silently as he'd arrived. It was only later when he had spoken to Alfred about it that Dick had found out that the garden view from the Georgian windows had been one of Martha Wayne's favorites. She herself had planned the garden and planted the first row of roses.

The view (and the garden itself) soon became one of Dick's own favorites. In those early days, if he weren't outside wandering among the fragrant rose bushes, he often stood at the windows, wondering at the incongruity of discovering such an open, airy space in the otherwise dark and gloomy mansion. By the time he had left for college, the interior of the home he had shared with Bruce and Alfred had undergone a positive change—less shadows and more light were allowed inside. Sadly, it had reverted to its original state of gloom following Jason's death, heavy curtains once more drawn against the light of day.

Recently, the manor had undergone somewhat of a rebirth into the light. Tim and Damian's presence had much to do with that, as well as Dick's returning to Gotham City to help with the younger boy's training. Robin may be Batman's partner, but Damian had been Dick's protégé. And, although the ten-year-old would never admit it, even on pain of death, Damian had bonded with Dick during their stint together as mentor and student, and he was closer to him than to any of the others.

Neither Dick nor Bruce saw any reason why the first Robin shouldn't continue as Damian's trainer. Despite the fact that Bruce had already trained three Robins, when push came to shove, Dick was much better with children in general, having trained several of the younger Titans throughout his years as leader. Part of this was due to his being closer in age to the junior heroes, but also, Dick was simply a more patient and understanding teacher—a natural leader who knew instinctively how to bring out the best in others.

Bruce was more of a drill instructor, a no-nonsense harsh taskmaster, who expected his protégés to instantly obey his commands without question. Unfortunately, Damian's and Bruce's personalities were too much alike. When they disagreed on something—which was often—neither would back down nor give an inch of ground. The inevitable showdowns oftentimes ended in epic shouting matches with Robin being grounded, and Damian confined to his room as punishment.

To circumvent the usual arguments between the mule-headed Bat and his equally stubborn son, Dick willingly stepped in as mediator. Of course, nothing was ever easy when it came to the infamous Dueling Duo, and more often than not, Dick had to figuratively duck and cover to avoid being caught in the crossfire of one of their mutual explosions.

Still, with Dick's almost daily presence, the manor and the cave echoed with his infectious laughter and Damian's acerbic comebacks. Dick generally kept his tone light as he encouraged his usually irritated and arrogant little brother to learn from his mistakes, even as he corrected Damian's form or knocked him down during a sparring session. And the younger boy _had_ learned under Dick's gentle guidance and good-humored tutelage. Damian had blossomed into a brave and fiercely loyal Robin—a true heir to the legacy.

But it had all been for nothing. Damn Talia for her evil machinations! And damn Bruce for giving in to her cruel demands. Damian or Gotham? Dick knew his own answer to that question.

Pausing in front of Damian's room, Dick took a moment to compose himself before knocking. At the soft "Come in" from inside, Dick opened the door and stepped in. Damian was sitting quietly at his desk, hunched over his sketchbook.

"What do you want, Grayson?" Damian asked without looking up. "Shouldn't you be helping Father?"

Dick walked up to him. He glanced at the page filled with sketches of Damian's dog Titus, his new cat (whom he had named Alfred), the Bat-signal, and Bat Cow. A charcoal sketch of Bruce and Talia took his breath away. As always, the younger boy's artistic talent amazed Dick. If only Bruce could see that Damian was so much more than Talia's Frankenstein monster, created to destroy the world. As Dick once told Tim, Damian _"practically bleeds the need to be accepted."_

"Bruce sent me." Dick spoke softly, regretfully.

Damian finally looked up, the expression on his small face painfully stoic. "He's sending me back to her, isn't he?" At Dick's reluctant nod, Damian dropped his eyes. He seemed to shrink into himself, looking more vulnerable than he'd ever appeared before. "It's not fair," he whispered.

Dick knelt next to Damian, gently raising the younger boy's chin so that they were eye to eye. "Dami, I've no intention of letting that happen."

"But, you said that Father—"

"—Ordered me to take you to him, so that he can turn you over to your mother." Dick spoke intently, but steadily. "That doesn't mean I intend to carry out that order. Dami, I came to take you away from here."

Damian shook his head. "No…you must do what Father said. He saw the future…If I stay, I'll grow up to be Batman and destroy the world."

"It was a dream, Dami! A lousy dream," Dick insisted. "No one can really know the future…not even Batman!"

"But—"

"No buts! When William Cobb told me to _embrace_ my destiny as a Talon, I told him that the only thing I _embrace_ is that destinies don't exist. We're leaving—_now_." He stood abruptly. "Unless you want to return to your mother?" He watched the emotions warring across the boy's face. "It's your choice, Dami." At least this way, Dick figured Damian would have a say in what happened to him. "Leave with me…or return to your mother?"

Damian lifted his chin bravely and looked him in the eye. "Leave with you…I want to go with you."

Taking a deep breath, Dick closed his eyes and bowed his head in momentary relief. Looking up he smiled gently. "Okay, then…why don't we get you packed?"

"Can Titus come with us?" Damian asked, bright blue eyes alight with sudden hope. "Or Alfred the cat?"

Feeling his stomach clench tightly at the boy's innocent expression, Dick had to swallow as he shook his head. "No, we have to travel light for now. I'm sorry." Was this the same look that he had given Bruce all those years ago? A look that implied he could make the sun rise and set with a mere thought? The same expression that had somehow broken through the Bat's protective armor and made him start to feel again?

If so…then how could Bruce close himself off so completely from his own son? Looking into those eyes now—Bruce's eyes—Dick felt a little bit of himself break inside as the light went out of them.

Damian nodded sadly, his boyish expression changing to one old beyond his years. They would have to leave everything behind, everything that could tie them back here. They would have to disappear, maybe for a long time. Worse, they would have to hide from two of the most powerful people in the world—Damian's father and mother.

As Damian stowed the last item into his backpack—a snapshot of Titus and Alfred the Cat cuddled together against Bat Cow in sleep—Dick took the stuffed pack from him. He quickly secured a rolled-up sleeping bag to it and threw it over his shoulder. Before they headed out, though, Damian put his hand on Dick's arm to stop him.

"Grayson, why are you doing this?" Damian asked, keeping his eyes carefully on his sneakers. "Why are you disobeying Father?"

Dick lightly ran his hand through the boy's hair. "Because we're partners, remember? And partners—"

"—Partners watch each other's back," Damian finished, finally meeting Dick's eyes.

Dick nodded and flashed him a sad smile. He didn't add that big brothers were also tasked with taking care of little brothers. "Let's go, L'il D."

"Master Richard?" Alfred stood uncertainly in the hallway outside. He glanced at the backpack and sleeping bag. "What's going on, sir?"

"I'm sorry, Alfred, but the less we tell you the better," Dick's expression remained neutral as he faced his surrogate grandfather. "And besides, what you don't know, you can't lie to Bruce about."

"Is this about the boy's mother and all the havoc she's been causing?" Alfred demanded, his chin raised in challenge. "She gave Master Bruce an ultimatum, didn't she? Master Damian or Gotham."

"Pennyworth…please." Damian's barely whispered words resonated with heartbreak.

Two sets of blue eyes stared pleadingly at the kindly gentleman, a man who had devoted more years than either boy before him had lived to caring for the Wayne family. Nodding in resignation, Alfred turned his back on the two so as not to actually watch them leave. At the last minute, he turned and caught a glimpse of Dick leading Damian into the study, and in all likelihood the Cave below. Blinking back the sudden onset of tears, Alfred bowed his head in pain.

"Master Bruce, what have you done?"

**End of Part 1**

**Author's Note:** I've been working on this story for the better part of three months now, and it's a little more than halfway done. Updates will be slow, but with summer just around the corner, I should have more time to write. Hopefully, I'll finish it before I have to get back to work when the fall term starts.

**Acknowledgements:** To be posted at a later date.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: May 2013


	2. Chapter 2 - Today of All Days

**Summary**: Dick and Damian stop for breakfast on the road. Of course, there's trouble.

(Un) Fortunate Son

By Syl Francis

"_Some folks are born to wave the flag, _

_Ooh, they're red, white and blue..."_

_(John C. Fogerty)_

_* D * d * d * D *_

Dick led Damian to his motorcycle, which was still sitting where he'd left it in the Cave. Hurriedly, yet methodically, he removed every tracker, changed its appearance to its daytime look, and switched the license plate to one Bruce didn't know about. He handed Damian his backpack, making sure the straps were tightened securely so it wouldn't slip during the long trip ahead. Also, because the nights were still cool out, and he anticipated crossing the Poconos in a few hours, he checked that Damian was dressed warmly before leaving.

Soon, they were roaring toward the Cave secret entrance. As they were about to cross the photoelectric eye, Dick sent out an electro-magnetic pulse that effectively whited out the surveillance cameras for ten minutes. That was enough time to backtrack and turn toward an alternate tunnel exit that had lain in disuse since the Great Gotham Quake. It wouldn't be enough to throw Bruce 100 percent off their trail, but it would slow him down.

Ten minutes later, they emerged from a storm drain near the westernmost boundary of Gotham Academy. The city's storm drain system, which had been built in the 1930s and 40s to prevent flooding, carried excess water from rain, sprinklers, and businesses away from city streets and straight out to the Gotham River. Dick had discovered the access tunnel while a student at the nearby academy and had used it a few times when Robin needed to beat a hasty exit during a school day.

Within a few minutes, Dick was pulling onto one of the many secondary roads that bisected rural Gotham County. Before long, they were heading west on I-80, the lights of Gotham City quickly diminishing behind them. They traveled west all night, stopping only for gas and the occasional restroom break. They crossed the Pennsylvania/Ohio state line shortly after midnight.

As the eastern sky turned pink, Dick spotted an advertisement for a well-known chain restaurant and pulled off the highway. He eased the motorcycle into the relatively empty parking lot and brought the bike to a stop. Damian dismounted first and immediately reached up to remove his helmet, but before he did so, Dick handed him a baseball cap. Dick nodded toward the security cameras mounted outside the building. Damian nodded in understanding.

They both turned away from the cameras prior to removing their helmets and replaced them with baseball caps. Dick's cap proclaimed the Gotham City Knights; Damian's the Metropolis Meteors. Dick pulled his cap low over his eyes and Damian followed suit. The two then donned almost identical sunglasses. Dick double-checked to ensure that enough of his younger brother's face was in shadow. Satisfied with the results, he held his fist out for the other boy, who bumped it with his own.

Helmets under their arms, the fugitives walked inside. They expertly scanned the relatively empty dining room for any threats, immediately spotting the poorly placed security cameras. Dick also took notice of two lone male diners sitting at different tables; both were tough-looking characters that would bear watching. A family of three sat together in a corner booth, smiling and chatting quietly among themselves.

Threat level: relatively low.

Dick requested a table toward the back, ensuring they had a wall behind them and a clear view of the dining room. It also had the added benefit of being in the cameras dead spot. The waitress quickly handed each a breakfast menu and introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Cindy. Can I get you something to drink while you look over your menus? Orange juice? Coffee? Milk?"

"Coffee and orange juice for me, please," Dick ordered. He looked at questioningly Damian.

"Orange juice and milk," Damian said softly.

Cindy nodded and set out their water glasses, silverware and napkins, leaving to get their drink order. While she was gone, they quietly perused their menus and were ready to order by the time she returned. Dick ordered a large breakfast comprised of a Denver omelet, bacon, hash brown potatoes and a side of pancakes, while Damian ordered a vegan breakfast consisting of pancakes, hash browns, and a fruit cup.

As Dick watched his little brother eat quietly, he pointed his fork at the vegan pancakes and shuddered. "You know that's practically sacrilegious, don't you?" he teased.

"What is sacrilegious is killing and eating an innocent creature who has never caused you any harm," Damian replied haughtily.

"You're right. Excuse me for a moment." Dick looked down seriously at his eggs and bacon and spoke solemnly. "Hey, guys…I'm really sorry about this whole killing you and cooking you and all. But, since you're already here, gracing my plate… it would be a shame—a sin even—to let your sacrifice go to waste. So, thank you." With that he took a large bite of his omelet and smiled at Damian.

Damian rolled his eyes. "I keep telling you, Gra—." He stopped, biting his lip. The two hadn't discussed it, but it was never a good idea to use their real names while undercover. A look of distress flitted across his face. Dick shook his head and gave him a brief smile and a wink, that said, _You did good_ _to catch yourself in time_.

"You are not as funny as you think you are," Damian finished. He concentrated on his own breakfast, but Dick thought he caught the barest hint of a smile before he ducked his head. Dick allowed himself a moment of relief. At least, the boy could still smile.

Halfway through his breakfast, Dick spotted a disturbance up front by the cash register. Two men in long, heavy dusters were crowding the cashier, who looked as white as a ghost. Dick could just make out the outline of a long-barreled weapon underneath one of the perps' coattails. He took a quick glance out the window. A mud-spattered, pickup with ridiculously oversized tires was parked just outside the entrance, idling noisily, its loose muffler spewing noxious fumes. All in all, the vehicle had seen better days—about 20 years ago. Dick spotted a white male in the driver's seat, head bobbing to music only he could hear.

_Seriously? These idiots chose this restaurant to rob…and today of all days._

"Damn," he muttered. Damian looked up at him, his eyes questioning. "Two perps. Armed—possibly a shotgun, maybe a rifle. Also, a probable accomplice sitting outside in a getaway vehicle." He considered simply ignoring the situation, but instantly discarded the notion. They needed a plan. He thought for a minute and then leaned forward. "Okay, L'il D…here's what we're gonna do. Now, you…"

_* D * d * d * D *_

Eddie stood impatiently in front of the young, female cashier. He and George—who insisted on being called Snake—had already threatened her with the 12-gauge shotgun and handgun. The girl was appropriately frightened, and Eddie had never felt so powerful in all his life. Leering at her, he read her nametag—_Anne_.

"Come on, Anne. My friend and I are in kind of a hurry. You just empty out the cash register and nobody gets hurt."

Anne nodded fearfully. There was almost no money in the cash register, just the seed money that the manager had put in at the start of the day. She nervously opened the register and pulled out the few bills.

Eddie immediately saw that it wasn't even $100 dollars in cash. "Where's the rest?" he demanded, no longer trying to keep his voice soft.

"That's all there is! I swear!" Anne replied, terrified. The commotion in the front was beginning to attract onlookers. Eddie noted the family of three, a young man in a baseball cap sitting toward the back, and two lone, hulking men—truckers most likely.

The truckers both stood up at the same time, their chairs crashing back. "Hey! Leave her alone!" The trucker who yelled made a threatening move toward Eddie and Snake. The two gunmen immediately had their weapons out and aimed at the would-be heroes.

"I wouldn't if I was you," Snake muttered. Then he grinned. "But I ain't, so what the fu—" He started to pull back back the hammer on the handgun, when it was suddenly knocked out of his hand by a flying _plate_. "Oww!" he yelled, grabbing his wrist. "What the—?"

"Who _did_ that?" Eddie shouted, brandishing the shotgun. He kept his finger on the trigger as he spun around the dining room. He glared at each of the diners in turn. The truck drivers both sat back down as he walked threateningly toward them, their hands in the air. The family huddled together in their corner booth, the father holding his wife and child protectively in his arms. In fact, everyone—except for the young man in the baseball cap—was cowering in terror.

Not liking this one bit, Eddie made his way down toward him. "Hey, you—the pretty boy in the Knights cap!" His shout got no response much to his annoyance and growing anger. Instead, Knights-cap guy sat quietly at his table, head down. "Yo! I'm _talking_ to you!" By then Eddie was standing almost directly above the guy, the shotgun never wavering. He placed the double barrels directly under the young man's chin and pushed up, forcing the guy to look him in his eyes.

"You've got five seconds to tell me who you are, wise guy!" Eddie threatened. "Then I'm blowing you to Kingdom Come."

At Eddie's words, the young man's deep blue eyes crinkled in amusement. "Well…since you asked so nicely." He paused, grinning. "I'm _his_ partner." Eddie saw the other man's eyes look at something behind him, and instinctively, he turned in the same direction. This proved to be a bad move on his part because the next instant, he felt the shotgun being yanked from his grasp. This was followed by a painful jab to the small of his back and an even harder, more painful knock to the back of his head.

The last thing Eddie saw before he succumbed to the fast-encroaching darkness was the Knights cap guy ruffling the hair of a smaller version of himself wearing a Meteors cap, which was just wrong as the two teams were bloodthirsty division rivals.

_* D * d * d * D *_

"Good work, bro," Dick congratulated. "They never saw you coming." Damian crossed his arms arrogantly.

"_::T~t::_ They weren't exactly criminal masterminds," he replied, unimpressed by the would-be robbers.

Dick chuckled at his little brother's disdain. "No, but nice going anyway." He began heading out the door, ignoring the calls from the restaurant staff and customers to shake his hand and offer their thanks.

Damian nodded, accepting the praise with no further comment. He, too, ignored the proffered show of thanks, while knocking off the hand that Dick had placed on his shoulder in a typical show of irritation.

"The outside man?" Dick asked, as soon as they stepped out. He took in the pickup and the strange sight of a grown man curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the parking lot, wrists and ankles secured with plastic tie-wraps.

Damian shook his head in disgust. "Gift wrapped and ready for shipment." He rolled his eyes. "After I snuck out the men's room, I made my way around the building to the vehicle parked out front. I approached it from the rear, but if you want my opinion, I could've been executing one of your much-vaunted Flying Graysons quadruple somersaults and he wouldn't have noticed me. If you can believe it, he had on earbuds and was listening to his music player. He never even knew I was there. After I secured him, I took the keys and locked the doors in case his friends managed to evade you."

Amused, Dick held his hand to his heart in mock hurt. "You cut me to the quick, kid. But…that was good thinking." As he stepped up to his motorcycle, Dick turned the baseball cap's brim backwards and put his helmet on over it. Hopping on the bike, he waited until Damian was seated comfortably. He kick-started the bike and pressed the EMP remote control, effectively whiting out the security cameras in the restaurant. Before pulling away, he added as if it were an after thought, "I didn't know you were interested in learning the quad, Dami. If we can get access to a trapeze, I could show you a few moves. Chicks dig that sort of thing, y'know."

In response, Damian simply thumped Dick on the back with just enough force to bruise, but not enough to have him lose control of the motorcycle. Over the loud roar of the engine, he could hear Dick's lighthearted laughter.

Less than five minutes later, they were on the open road again, Damian still grinning to himself. _Working with Grayson is never dull_. Shaking his head, he admitted to himself—even if only for a split second—that Dick had been his favorite and best partner. He was glad that he'd agreed to go with him.

_* D * d * d * D *_

Damian noticed that they had changed highways sometime earlier and were now headed west on I-90. They had apparently crossed into Indiana sometime late last night and were nearing Gary, located at the southernmost tip of Lake Michigan. Up until now, Damian hadn't asked Dick where they were going, but he was beginning to wonder. They had been on the road for more than twelve hours and had traveled several hundred miles. And, although they were Bats, even they had to sleep at some point.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Damian realized Dick was pulling off the expressway and moving away from the city proper toward a residential area. Many of the neighborhoods they drove through looked depressed, the homes and apartment buildings old and worn. After taking several backstreets and alleys—and how Dick knew to take them baffled Damian—they finally arrived at their destination.

It was a modest townhouse that had seen better days. On the plus side, it had an alley entrance and enclosed backyard patio/driveway that helped hide their approach. Dick pulled up to the attached garage and stopped. He dismounted, and walking up to the garage door, pulled out a set of keys. After unlocking it, he pulled it open.

Something lay draped underneath a somewhat dusty tarpaulin, taking up the better part of the two-car garage. Dick didn't bother with explanations. He simply walked the motorcycle into the garage and squeezed it next to the covered vehicle. At least, Damian assumed it was a vehicle, because what else could it be?

Closing the garage door behind them, Dick grabbed the saddlebags and led the way to yet another door that opened into the kitchen area. He flicked a switch, and the kitchen was instantly flooded in a warm, soft light.

"Home sweet home…at least for a few nights," Dick said. He dropped the saddlebags on the kitchen table and led Damian across the attached living room toward the small bedrooms. "Pick whichever room you want. You'll find bed linens and blankets on the top shelf in the hallway closet. They might be a little musty since they haven't been aired out in about a year. The bathroom is the last door on the right."

"I don't understand, Grayson. What is this place? Is it yours?" Damian asked.

"It's a safe house, Dami. I have a few scattered around the world. You know…in case Nightwing or Dick Grayson ever has to suddenly disappear."

"Does Father know about this? How did you pay for it? How long have you had it?"

"Bruce doesn't really know about the safe houses, although I'm sure he suspects. I paid for them with some non-traceable overseas bank accounts under an assumed name. I'm Danny Goodman when I stay here, by the way." To show what he meant, Dick opened a drawer and pulled out a fake driver's license with a stranger's face and the name Daniel J. Goodman on the ID.

"That doesn't even look like you," Damian said, impressed in spite of himself.

"Just applying Alfred's lessons on stage makeup. It's amazing what you can do with a little hair dye, prosthesis for the nose, and a two-day stubble. _Voila_—instant disguise."

"You said that Danny Goodman is the ID you use when you stay here. Does this mean that you have other phony IDs in your other safe houses?"

Dick grinned. "You can never have too many fake IDs, L'il D. We won't be here long enough for you to need one, but in case the neighbors get curious—you can be my little brother Davey Goodman." Damian gave him a reluctant nod of agreement. "I think we should both catch a little shuteye. I don't know about you, but I'm bushed."

Damian selected the smaller of the two bedrooms and casually tossed his backpack on the single twin bed. He then walked across the hall to the linen closet and pulled out an extra blanket. While spring had officially arrived, the weather was still holding onto the last vestiges of winter.

Last night's cross-country journey had been made in relatively good weather, but it had been a bit nippy, especially out in the open. Dick's body had thankfully acted as a shield against most of the wind, but Damian was still a little chilled. The extra blanket and a hot shower before bed would go a long way toward making him feel a little better. He hoped…

He woke with a gasp. His pajamas were drenched in cold sweat. He had dreamed of his mother, and the spinal/neural implant that she had used to control him remotely and almost force him to kill Dick. Worse, he remembered the clone that she had created to replace him, the clone that was even now causing havoc in Gotham City as Leviathan the Heretic.

He threw the covers aside and padded his way on bare feet to the bedroom across the hallway. Dick's dark blue eyes greeted him as soon as he stuck his head in the open door. It was obvious that he had been sleeping, however, and that Damian had woken him.

"Dami, you okay, buddy?"

Damian simply stood there wordlessly, looking stricken. He had been raised as an assassin. He'd faced down some of Gotham's worst monsters, and just recently had fought against the Joker. He didn't need to run to Grayson for comfort after a nightmare, but—he was fighting an internal struggle with his pride. Damian had never felt so indecisive and helpless. He hated the feeling, but he realized that he wanted…something. He just wasn't sure what it was exactly.

Seeing his younger brother wrestling with whatever was bothering him, Dick simply moved over and patted the empty spot on the bed next to him. Reluctantly, Damian slid in beside him, lying stiffly on his back, his arms crossed tightly in front of him.

"Don't worry, Li'l D…I've got your back," Dick murmured sleepily.

"_::T~t::"_ Damian rolled his eyes. He wasn't some helpless child. He didn't need Grayson protecting him from monsters in the closet. That being settled, Damian slowly unwound and snuggled next to his older brother, strangely soothed by Dick's slow, even breathing. Before long Damian fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

_* D * d * d * D *_

**End of Part 2**

**Acknowledgements:** Thanks to my betas: Ellen, Xenith, and Beth.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: May 2013


	3. Chapter 3 - FamilyFriendsBroken Homes

**Summary**: Dick's friends answer his call for help.

(Un) Fortunate Son

By Syl Francis

"…_My wounds are not healing,_

_I'm stuck in between my parents."_

_("Broken Home" by Papa Roach)_

_* D * d * d * D * _

Damian stirred in his sleep as soft voices worked their way into his consciousness. At last, the quiet murmuring from somewhere beyond his door woke him. He checked the bedside clock—6:10 p.m. He'd slept for almost ten hours. Grumbling at not being awakened earlier, Damian threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed. Listening intently, he recognized the first voice as Dick's and the other as that of a woman's. Curious, Damian stumbled his way to the efficiency kitchen, blinking against the bright light.

"Hey, there, Li'l D," Dick greeted. He smiled at his little brother's cranky expression. It reminded Dick of Bruce before his first cup of coffee in the morning. He smirked. _Oh, yeah… Another Mr. Grumpy Pants._ "Did we wake you?" he asked apologetically. "Sorry 'bout that."

Damian yawned, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes by way of response. Walking up to his older brother, Damian automatically leaned into him as Dick put an arm around him and pulled him onto his lap. Damian glowered suspiciously at the young woman who was sitting across from them. She wore little makeup and was dressed simply in a tee shirt and jeans, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Even Damian could see that despite her casual appearance, she was a stunning woman. He looked questioningly at Dick, his expression demanding to know who the stranger was.

Smiling at Damian's distrustful look, Dick introduced her. "Dami, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine—Zatanna Zatara. Zee, this is my little brother, Damian."

Zatanna smiled in greeting. "I'm very happy to meet you, Damian. Dick's told me a lot about you."

"Are you the magician who talks backwards when casting her spells?" Damian asked. At Zatanna's nod, he looked toward Dick clearly not understanding why the magician was there.

"Zee's here to help, Dami." Dick turned back to Zatanna. "You were about to show me the glamor charms."

Nodding, Zatanna held her right hand in front of her, palm up. She momentarily closed her eyes in concentration. When she opened them, her sapphire eyes began to glow. Soon, they were shining brightly, bathed in a silver light. She then murmured something too low for the others to hear. The next instant, a pair of blue star sapphire stud earrings materialized in the palm of her hand.

"_Smrahc, sredistuo ees eht romalg ylno, tub eht sreraew ees eht hturt," _the young magician intoned. (Charms, outsiders see the glamor only, but the wearers see the truth.) The sapphires glowed with the same brilliance as her eyes, but soon returned to normal. Within a few moments, her eyes were also restored to their usual lovely shade of blue.

Dick immediately recognized the earrings. Taking them in the palm of his own hand, he gave her a questioning look.

"Glamor charms work best if the object itself has a connection to both wearer and the spell caster. You yourself picked these earrings for a specific reason, as a gift for me, which gives you a strong link. As for me, I'm not only the owner of the earrings, but I also happen to be the person who's casting the spell."

Dick nodded. He recalled giving the sapphire earrings to Zatanna for her sixteenth birthday. He had picked them out for her because they had matched her eyes so perfectly.

"Because they were a gift from you, they hold a strong sentimental value for me. More importantly, because you are my friend, Dick—" Zatanna placed her hand over his and blushed. "—as well as my first love, the glamor spell I cast will be three times as powerful."

Zatanna didn't add the obvious: The charms would be protecting someone for whom she cared deeply. Although she and Dick were no longer a couple, he would always hold a special place in her heart and she in his. At Dick's gentle look of understanding, Zatanna added, "By extension, the charms will protect Damian because he is under your protection."

Damian scowled at her words. He was Robin the Boy Wonder, as well as, Damian al Ghul Wayne. On his mother's side, he had been raised by assassins to someday rule the world; on his father's, he was heir to the Batman legacy. He jutted his chin out proudly.

"I don't need to be protected like some helpless child," he said haughtily. Of course, his claim would have carried much more weight if he weren't currently sitting on Dick's lap. The two young adults shared a look of tolerant amusement.

Dick ran his hand through Damian's sleep-tousled hair, smiling affectionately when the younger boy automatically slapped his hand away. "You're right, Dami. But in all fairness, the glamor charms will also act as a disguise for us, so we don't have to use makeup or even Bruce's EMP mask." This last referred to a computer-generated holographic mask that allowed the wearer to don any disguise. Dick smiled at Zatanna. "Zee here did this once before for an undercover op. The spell worked for several months, until a bad guy yanked it off my deep-cover operative."

Zatanna pointed to the earrings in Dick's palm. "And that's why I selected earrings this time, instead of a pendant necklace." Smiling wickedly, the beautiful magician added, "That and the fact that you'll look fantastic with a pierced ear, Dick."

"Say what? No one said anything about a pierced ear, Zee!"

At her friend's sudden look of protest, Zatanna's grin widened. "It's better than a necklace, Dick. A chain can break—or as you pointed out, can be pulled off the wearer—but a stud earring has a better chance of not being lost or misplaced. And the piercing only hurts for a little while, poor baby."

Dick grimaced at her reasoning, but he surrendered to the inevitable. Sighing, he turned to Damian and smiled ruefully. "Dami, I guess you and I are gonna be talking like pirates for a few months. _Arrrgh_!"

Damian gave him a look of disgust. "And people say you're the funny one," he muttered.

"Before I go, I must warn you…This glamor spell is a bit complex—more so than the one I used last time. For that one, Artemis only had one disguise and had to stick to it the entire time she was undercover. This spell allows the wearer to change their outer appearance as needed, but it does have its limits." She held Dick's gaze with an intent look. "It becomes harder to maintain the glamor after the fifth change. So…I hope you don't need to change your outward appearance each day."

"No…I don't really anticipate a need for that. We'll only switch in the case of emergency, and then only if it's a matter of life or death."

"Okay, I guess that's all I have, except…if you need anything—anything at all—don't hesitate to call. You know how to reach me." At Dick's nod, Zatanna looked at her watch and stood reluctantly. She gave him a regretful smile. "I have an eight o'clock show tonight. The star can't be late to her own opening, I guess."

Dick stood along with her. "Zee…I can't thank you enough—"

She silenced him with a light touch to his lips. "No thanks are needed between us, Dick." She gently pulled him down for a kiss. "Be safe, Dick."

"Say it backwards, and then it'll be official." He spoke softly with a wistful smile, one that reflected regret for a love lost due to circumstances neither could control—dangerous lifestyles that left little to no time for romance, daytime jobs that forced them to live with half a continent between them, and more importantly, growing up and growing apart.

"_Eb efas, Kcid_," she whispered. She stepped back and softly recited the teleport incantation. A brilliant aura surrounded the Mistress of Magic, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

_* D * d * d * D *_

Batman sat alone in the darkness of the Cave, the only illumination that of the recessed lighting in and around the main area. Alfred was somewhere upstairs quietly carrying out his duties. He had said little since Batman's return some days ago. But then, Alfred's silences were much louder than any angry words he might have spoken.

Batgirl and Red Robin had returned to the Cave only long enough to complete and log their after-action reports. Apparently, both Barbara and Tim had had "previous engagements" later that evening, which they were anxious to get to—or so they said. They hadn't even stayed for dinner.

As for Jason? Red Hood had never even returned to the Cave. He had simply glared at Batman after the battle was over, exuding Bat-attitude as only he could. He had revved his motorcycle and roared off, neither bothering to say goodbye nor where he was going. Arsenal and Starfire had followed him soon after—three disparate souls joined at the hip.

So now the Dark Knight sat alone with only the company of the Cave's natural denizens, as it had been at the beginning. As it should be, he reminded himself. Even now he could hear the restless, leathery sounds of hundreds of fluttering wings. Something had set the bats off. _Who knows…? Maybe they're disappointed in me, too. Well, let 'em stand in line. _As soon as the thought formed, the sound of leathery wings rose to a sudden crescendo, and moments later, it receded down the endless cave corridors. The bats had left him, too.

To an outsider it would appear that he was simply brooding in the gloom of his surroundings. The giant computer monitor was for all intents and purposes powered off, its usual blue glow missing from the main work area.

Despite outward appearances, Batman was actually using a new computer interface that he and Lucius Fox had developed. A contact lens in his right eye was connected wirelessly to the Cave mainframe. The virtual microprocessors in the lens allowed the user to interface with the supercomputer through the simple blink of any eye. It projected a holo-keyboard and joystick to allow for better control of the virtual reality being scrutinized.

Currently, he was sitting inside a virtual, 3-D holographic scene reviewing what Talia's insane hatred—against him for not loving her and against their son for choosing to remain with him—had wrought upon the citizens of Gotham and upon his family…

While he had been literally chained inside a safe and thrown into the Gotham River with only a few minutes of air with which to attempt an escape, the streets of Gotham had erupted in anarchy. Leviathan the Heretic, Talia's new and (in her opinion) improved version of their son, had rendered the locals mad with some form of mind control. Innocent, law-abiding citizens had been turned into mindless zombies, bent on murder and mayhem.

As the rioting exploded on the streets, Batgirl, Red Hood, and Red Robin had been besieged inside Wayne Tower, barely managing to hold their own against the League of Shadows until help arrived. Despite their personal animosity toward each other, the three Bats had worked as a team, fighting back to back against the common enemy.

Nightwing, meanwhile, had done what he could out on the streets, fighting alongside Commissioner Gordon and the GCPD, working futilely to stem the tide of rioters that was slowly, inexorably overwhelming their defenses. Which was where Batman found his eldest once he'd succeeded in escaping his underwater deathtrap…

Watching the scene play out, Bruce grimaced as he heard himself once again order Nightwing to bring Damian to him. He watched helplessly as his recorded image agreed to turn his youngest son over to his mother. Even though he knew he had said it, knew that he had thought it the best course of action at the time, hearing his own words laid out so coldly before him was like a hammer blow to the gut.

Turning the boy over to Talia would have been the ultimate act of betrayal of a father to his son. Damian had chosen him over his mother. He had chosen a life of honor and justice over that of murder and tyranny. And yet, Bruce hadn't trusted him fully. He'd instead chosen to believe a dark vision of the future in which Damian was responsible for the destruction of the world.

Nightwing's first instinct had been to believe the vision was a lie, somehow concocted by Talia and not to be trusted. Unlike Bruce, Dick had complete faith in Damian to do what was right—to follow in the same path that all Bruce's protégés had walked before him. After all, Robin was Dick's legacy to bestow, and while filling in as Batman, he had elected to pass it on to Damian, choosing him over Tim who had worn the bright colors with honor and distinction.

As he played the security footage, Bruce saw the look of impotent fury cross Nightwing's face when Batman gave him the order to get Damian. The same look, captured in different angles by various security cameras as he made his way across town to Wayne Tower where he retrieved his motorcycle, stayed on him the whole way. Bruce watched as Nightwing's image was caught in yet another angle as he hopped onto his motorcycle. As he watched, Bruce saw the exact moment the younger man firmed his jaw with new determination, his eyes narrowing as if girding for battle just as the helmet visor closed over them…

_That was when he decided,_ Bruce realized. _That was_ _the moment that there would be no turning back._

Batman typed a new command on the virtual keyboard, bringing up the fighting inside the entrance foyer of Wayne tower. The security cameras caught the trio of younger heroes—Batgirl, Red Robin, and Red Hood—during one of their tenser moments on the mezzanine just above the entrance foyer. Even as they were being overrun by ninjas, Red Hood and Red Robin squabbled like little kids.

After Tim accused Red Hood of being a serial murderer, Jason opined that Red Robin's smug, know-it-all attitude would have earned him a wedgie in school.

"… and you're nothing but a lousy serial killer!" Red Robin spat at his predecessor.

"Yeah? Well, your smug, know-it-all attitude would've gotten you shoved into your gym locker in school—not to mention a daily wedgie. Hell…I don't blame Nightwing for firing you and replacing you with the little demon." Red Hood struck out with the heel of his right hand, landing a solid blow to his opponent's chin. The bad guy went down with a pained gurgle, his jaw broken. "Ha! The Replacement has now been replaced himself. Tell me…how does it feel?" This last line was delivered to the tune of the Bob Dylan song, "Like a Rolling Stone."

The sibling rivals kept going like this, spewing out taunts and insults to raise the other's hackles; however, their personal dislike didn't prevent them from working together to defeat Talia's assassins.

"Speaking of Nightwing…where the hell is he?" Batgirl shouted, while simultaneously taking out three assassins. "I haven't seen him for over an hour!"

"I think the Boss-man sent him to get Robin," Red Robin grunted.

"What for? The last thing that kid needs is to get in the way of his mother," Red Hood replied.

"That's just it…I overheard B say that he's handing the little demon over to his evil mom. Wing was sent to get him."

"What? No freaking way!" Red Hood protested.

"That bitch put a neural control receiver in the kid's spinal column the last time she got her hands on him!" Batgirl added.

"Ours is not to reason why…" Red Robin sing-songed.

"The hell it isn't!" Batgirl growled. "Robin may not be your favorite person, Red, but even you couldn't wish him in Talia's clutches. He's just a little kid, for cripes sake!"

"What d'you wanna bet the Wingster doesn't deliver his baby-bird to the evil bitch?" Red Hood asked. The security camera caught the knowing smirks on the young heroes' faces as they battled for their lives…

Meanwhile, outside on the streets of the beleaguered city, the Battle for Gotham was nearing its climax. The city's defenders were vastly outnumbered, and the clock was still ticking relentlessly on. In another few minutes, their weak defenses would be breached. Among the thin blue line of the GCPD officers, Batman spotted Commissioner Gordon still fighting in the front lines. _Jim's not just a good cop_, Batman reflected. _He's also being stupidly brave! Doesn't he realize that Gotham can't afford to lose him?_ Along with Gordon stood Lt. Harvey Bullock, Sgt. Rene Montoya, Officer Jason Bard, and the rest of Gotham's Finest. They all stood strong and resolute, staring down the face of impending doom.

Which was when the cavalry arrived.

Batman recalled first his surprise, then his fury as the world's greatest heroes arrived in answer to Nightwing's 911 call. Of course, at the time Batman had not known about the urgent request for help. He had still been under the impression that Nightwing had left to retrieve Damian per his orders. It had been an arrogant assumption on his part, Bruce acknowledged. Damian might have been his son by blood, but he was Dick's by other, more important ways.

Perhaps Dick would not have admitted it aloud, but from the very beginning, he had been more father than brother to Damian. He might have taken the 10-year-old under his wing initially because of his sense of duty and loyalty to Bruce, but in the end Dick and Damian had bonded in a way that Bruce had been incapable of matching. Dick understood the younger boy better than any of the other members of the family, and he made no secret of the fact that he loved him.

Therefore, it should have come as no surprise that Nightwing had taken the unprecedented steps of disobeying Batman's direct orders regarding Damian outright, not to mention inviting meta-humans to Gotham to help during the citywide crisis.

Watching the minute-by-minute 3D instant replay, Bruce assessed how quickly and efficiently the various heroes had assisted him in taking down Leviathan and the League of Shadows. All the while, Talia had spoken tauntingly to him on his own communications channel, having hacked into it several hours prior.

The Justice League and Titans arrival were nothing short of dramatic…

The world's heroes swooped in like avenging angels—those with the power of flight dropping off their more earthbound colleagues. As soon as they touched down, the rioting crowds on the streets swarmed upon them like angry locusts. Over and over, they chanted, "_Leviathan rises_! _Leviathan rises! Leviathan rises!"_

"The rioters are a diversion!" Batman yelled into his JL communicator, while taking down five of Talia's fighters at the same time. "Leviathan has a nuclear device, and it's set to go off in less than an hour!"

"_Really, Beloved…you brought all those heroes just for me?"_ Talia asked silkily. "_And they say romance is dead."_

Superman and Wonder Woman both responded, "On it!"

"_I see you called the Amazon, your former paramour—or is that title only reserved for your thief? So difficult to keep up..."_

"Green Arrow," Batman called as he made his way to Wayne Tower, "do you have anything in your quiver to disperse the crowds?"

"_Typical. You can't choose between your son and your filthy city, so you call in your cavalry."_

"I can do you one better, Bats," Green Arrow replied immodestly. "We'll put 'em all to sleep for a couple hours." Without further word, Green Arrow, Arsenal, and Connor Hawke headed toward higher elevation to gain a better angle of fire.

"I need a team at the Tricorner loading docks ASAP. They're offloading a cache of weapons large enough to outfit a small army." Batman didn't add that the League of Shadows intended to arm the Gotham underworld with the weapons shipment to take the city further down the path into anarchy.

"This is Aquaman," the King of Atlantis spoke regally as he acknowledged the request. "I am proceeding to the loading docks with Tempest, Beast Boy, and Martian Manhunter. My underwater sources have informed me that this enemy of yours for her own twisted ends has greatly misused and murdered many of my aquatic subjects—the Orcas in particular. We shall take care of the problem. Aquaman out."

_Great, that's all we needed_. Batman sighed. The King of Atlantis was getting territorial about his underwater domain in the middle of one of the greatest terrorists attacks on U.S. soil in recent memory. He noted that besides the Atlanteans, Aquaman had teamed with two shape-shifters—Beast Boy and Martian Manhunter—both capable of changing into water breathers.

"Just make sure those weapons don't make it to the streets of Gotham! The rest of you, concentrate on Wayne Tower. The League of Shadows has commandeered it and several of my operatives are currently besieged in there."

"_I am afraid, Beloved, that whatever your contingency plans were, it is already too late,"_ Talia said amused. _"You should have accepted my offer when you had the chance. The end is at hand unless you return my son."_

"Nightwing…Nightwing, come in!" Batman breached the blocked entrance into the tower foyer. If the outside could be described as chaotic, the inside was pandemonium. "Nightwing—status!" He switched channels. "Alfred, have you seen Nightwing?"

"_Bah! Always, you turn to your gypsy circus boy. Pathetic!"  
_

"Yes, sir…the young master left almost two hours ago."

"Did he have Damian with him?" Bruce demanded.

"Yes…Master Richard and Master Damian left together."

"They should have been here already. Something must've happened to them. Damn!"

"_I believe that you already know their probable fate, Beloved. Neither your gypsy nor my son is strong enough to face down the League of Shadows. They were probably ambushed and killed on the way back to the city."_

"I…I do not believe that Master Richard intended on taking Master Damian to you, sir," Alfred stated hesitantly. "He did not approve of your decision to return Master Damian to his mother's custody."

At Alfred's report, Talia had burst into wild, insane laughter in the background. _"The circus trash has defied you and taken Damian? I'm afraid, Beloved, that renders my initial offer null and void."_

"What? No, Talia! I will find them. They haven't been gone long…They can't have gotten far."

"_Leviathan, my son! Destroy them all!"_

"Superman! The bomb! Have you found—?" Ten assassins appeared seemingly out of nowhere and attacked him, forcing him to concentrate on the fight.

"It's being disposed of even as I speak, Batman. I found it and GL has placed it inside a time dilation field he generated with three seconds to spare on the detonator clock. Time inside the field is being stretched out so that seconds become minutes. The additional three minutes will give Dr. Fate enough time to recite an incantation to teleport the nuclear device into the sun."

As the Man of Steel gave Batman his report, he could hear over the JL channel the sounds of flesh pounding against flesh, grunts, and outright cries of pain. "Batman, what's your status?"

"A little busy," Batman muttered. When his end quieted down, he demanded brusquely, "Superman…status report on the nuke!"

Superman rolled his eyes. With a shake of the head, he reported "All clear… GL and Dr. Fate's idea worked. The bomb has detonated harmlessly in the sun."

While he had been talking, Superman was making his way to Wayne Tower. He arrived in time to see several men firing a strange mixture of medieval and modern weapons at the Dark Knight. The next instant Superman blew the assassins across the foyer with his super-breath where they slammed against the far wall with enough force to knock them unconscious.

At the same time, Black Canary and the Birds of Prey entered from above. The Huntress rained deadly bolts with her crossbow with frightening accuracy, just barely keeping the quarrels from being kill shots. Using her ultrasonic Canary Cry, Black Canary collapsed a set of marble pillars on the heads of another group of ninjas. As a few struggled to regain their feet, she calmly walked up to them and kicked them with solid roundhouses to the temple.

"That should hold 'em,"she muttered with grim satisfaction.

There were capes and colorful costumes everywhere. Batman caught sight of Power Girl and the Flash, Wonder Girl and Troia, Green Lantern and Hawkgirl, the Question, Knight and Squire, Hawk and Dove, Blue Beetle and Booster Gold, Captain Marvel and the Marvel family, and several others. It looked like the entire rosters of several superhero teams had shown up.

Meanwhile, Batman was locked in hand-to-hand combat with Damian's evil clone—_Leviathan_. The genetically enhanced super-soldier had been grown specifically to destroy the world, but not before first killing the Bat-family and destroying Gotham City. Batman was barely holding his own against the giant, but he was operating on two hours sleep in the past 48 hours, not to mention several claustrophobic minutes locked inside a safe—while chained up and sinking to the bottom of Gotham River.

He again heard Talia over the Bats private channel. _"Leviathan, my son…we are done here. Damian and Nightwing have managed to escape. You swore to me that they would both be dead today. You have failed in your mission." _She paused. _"You know what you must do in order to make amends."_

"Yes, Mother… I mean, my Lady Talia. I understand." Leviathan managed to get a solid hit through Batman's defenses, sending him flying across the once pristine, but now almost completely demolished, entrance foyer. "_Leviathan rises_!" he roared, just as he revealed the hidden wires around his torso.

"Explosives!" Batman shouted in warning. A strong wind blew across the foyer, sweeping up everything in its wake. In the blink of an eye, both Superman and Leviathan were gone. The distant sound of an explosion high up above the clouds told the whole story. Batman felt exhausted beyond all reason. Leviathan had been cloned from Damian's DNA. This not only made him a perverted twin version of Damian, but also in a sick way, Bruce Wayne's son.

Tired and angry, he snarled into the communications link, "Talia…Leviathan is dead by his own hand. Do you _hear_ me? He's _dead_! Your army of assassins has either been captured or is in full retreat. You've _lost_, Talia!"

Batman's cowl camera caught other heroes in and around the fighting. At a silent signal to withdraw, the remaining members of Talia's army of assassins began to melt away, the World's Greatest Heroes following closely on their trail.

"_I am sorry, Beloved, but this is far from over. Not by a long shot."_

Almost immediately following Leviathan's suicide bomb run, his enthralled minions began to snap out of his mind control. Most collapsed unconscious where they stood; while many more had already succumbed to Green Arrow's sleep gas. Later, when they began to awaken, they were confused by their surroundings, unable to remember what had transpired or how they had gotten there.

The gunrunners were successfully captured and immobilized by Aquaman and his team.

The Battle for Gotham City was over…for the moment, at least.

_* D * d * d * D *_

Batman blinked and the 3D replay came to a stop. He blinked again and the program shut down. He sat at the computer console, his hands steepled just under his chin. He didn't want to say it because to say it would be to admit that he'd acted rashly and without clear logic.

And yet, Nightwing had succeeded when Batman had deemed there was no hope left. Nightwing had called for help, while Batman would have allowed Gotham to go up like a Roman candle rather than invite meta-humans into his city.

Nightwing had cultivated many friendships across the superhero community. He was well liked and respected by almost every major player in the business. When he called for help, almost everyone who could responded in droves.

Batman would have stood impotently by and watched his beloved city go up in flames, because he didn't trust enough in his fellow heroes to ask for their help. Worse, because he was too proud.

Nightwing simply picked up the phone. Having friends he could count on during peaceful times and in a crisis was probably Nightwing's greatest gift—his superpower.

_* D * d * d * D *_

**End of Part 3**

**Acknowledgements:** Thanks to my betas: Ellen, Xenith, and Beth.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: May 2013


	4. Chapter 4 - Interlude

**Summary**: A brief interlude…

(Un) Fortunate Son

By Syl Francis

"_He ain't heavy, he's my brother..."_

_(Lyrics by Bobby Scott and Bob Russell)_

_* D * d * d * D *_

_On the positive side_, Dick thought as he sipped his morning coffee while watching the reds and pinks break along the eastern sky, _we haven't run across any more robberies in progress or old ladies needing help crossing the street or insane hitchhikers_. In fact, they had taken the scenic route cross-country in Dick's beat-up old jeep, while hauling his motorcycle on a small trailer. The jeep and trailer had been hidden under the tarpaulin in the garage back in the safe house.

Since they were taking less-traveled secondary roads, Dick decided a week of outdoor living was just what the doctor ordered. Damian had never been camping, and Dick thought that was an unacceptable shortcoming in the boy's education in the _manly_ arts.

_Besides, there's no time like the present_, Dick decided. In truth, they needed the downtime in the wilderness to lie low while the initial excitement over their disappearance died down. After all, Bruce could have Dick charged with kidnapping, which Dick wouldn't put past him. At least, that was the excuse he gave Damian to explain the out-of-the-way detour. They camped out for nearly a week in Yellowstone Park, hiking and exploring the great caldera, awed by its many natural wonders. Old Faithful and a few of the lesser-known geysers especially kept Damian enthralled for the better part of their stay.

Of course, first-time camping is always challenging to the newcomer; however, couple that with one stubborn Son of a Bat, and you have the distinct probability of a first night supper comprised of cold beans and leftover trail mix. Thankfully, the problem was resolved quickly and dinner was saved…

"I know how to start a fire, Grayson! It was included in my training with Grandfather's League of Shadows. Ubu, Grandfather's personal bodyguard, taught me all about incendiary devices and their effectiveness."

"That's great, Dami. Just remember, Smokey Bear frowns on using Molotov cocktails to start a campfire," Dick retorted with an amused chuckle.

"Why do you insist on your inane jokes when no one else is laughing?" Damian demanded, frustrated with the Zippo lighter that Dick had tossed him.

"Need a hand there, Pathfinder?" Dick asked, straight-faced. He watched in amusement as Damian continued trying to strike the flint wheel.

"Your equipment is obviously defective, Grayson! Or, perhaps you failed to fill this instrument with lighter fluid."

"You're probably right, Dami," Dick agreed in mock seriousness. "Here… let me." Dick took the Zippo from Damian, and with one quick flick of the thumb, a small flame burst forth from the lighter's chimney. "Hmm… seems okay." He glanced askance at Damian's sour look and smiled in fond exasperation. _So stubborn. _ "Here, Dami… you try it." At his brother's mulish look, Dick crouched down next to him. "Like this." He demonstrated the proper way to light it a couple times, and then held Damian's smaller thumb over the flint wheel, walking him through it once. After a few false starts, Damian was finally able to flick his thumb correctly and light the flame.

"There! You got it! Great work, Dami," Dick said, clapping him lightly on the back in approval. "You know, Bruce taught me when I was just a little younger than you are now."

At Damian's sudden look of interest, Dick regaled the younger boy with amusing stories about the fun camping trips that he had taken as a small boy with Bruce and Alfred, and later as a teen with the Titans.

"You have not known real fear, my boy, until you have borne witness to Bruce Wayne attempting to cook over an open flame. Even the grizzlies knew better than to approach." He grinned in remembrance as they prepared their supper. "I can't swear to it, of course, but I think that Alfred actually threatened to quit if Bruce even remotely approached the campfire again."

Damian smirked at the image of Bruce Wayne being taken down a peg or two by Alfred.

"As you can imagine with Alfie doing all the cooking, we feasted like kings during that particular camping trip. We were the envy of all the other campers in the area. By our last night, Bruce had grown pretty tired of the dark looks the other dads were giving him, so we invited all the families in the campground to a large, communal cookout." Dick stared into the fire, lost in his thoughts. Such times became more infrequent as Dick grew older, until they stopped altogether.

A few years later, Dick, Roy and Wally introduced Lian Harper and the West twins, Jai and Iris, to the great outdoors with a backpacking tour of the Grand Canyon and rock climbing in Yosemite. Dick recalled the looks of excitement on the kids' faces and the look of pride on that of their fathers as the vacation had progressed. For the first time, Dick had envied Roy and Wally for having something he didn't—a child that looked to him for everything…

Sitting back in quiet relaxation tin mugs in hand, the two brothers enjoyed a comfortable companionship. Dick savored the warmth from the hot cocoa as he sipped slowly. After a few minutes, he recounted a funny story of Wally's attempt to eat his weight in hot dogs. He smiled in the re-telling, remembering the twins' embarrassment at their dad's antics.

"I thought Roy was gonna kill Wally for sure. I mean the guy practically ate our entire supplies in one sitting." Dick shook his head. "But y'know…? It actually turned out to be a good thing." At Damian's questioning look, Dick explained. "See, Roy was raised by a Native American tribe and learned to live off the land from an early age. So, instead of driving 200 miles to the nearest convenience store, Roy simply taught us some of the things he knew. I think that was probably one of the best weeks I've ever spent."

Dick studied Damian as the firelight caught the boy's bright features. The look of excited interest fought against his usual careful mask of indifference; however, in the end, his natural boyish curiosity won out, and unable to help himself, he eagerly asked questions regarding wilderness survival skills. "Of course, I seriously doubt there is anything that you could teach me, Grayson," Damian said with disdain. "But, I am willing to offer you an opportunity to try. If we must spend a week out here in the middle of nowhere, then perhaps it will not be a total waste of my time."

Touched by Damian's painfully obvious ploy for attention, Dick nodded in agreement. "You're probably right, Dami. My outdoor survival skills _are_ a little rusty, but I think I remember enough to not completely humiliate myself." Smiling at the boy, he added, "What do you say, we start tomorrow with tracking and trail blazing?" At Damian's eager nod, Dick suddenly experienced a warm feeling spread out from deep inside his chest. _This_, he thought, _might just be but a small reflection of how Roy and Wally felt each day_.

The week passed quickly, and before either was ready, it was time to break camp. As their last afternoon at Yellowstone drew to a close, Dick stood back and watched as a young fawn cautiously approached Damian's out-stretched palm. The expressions flitting across the boy's face, running the gamut from eager to awed as the fawn nibbled on the apple slice he held a bit unsteadily, were almost too much for Dick to bear. Suddenly, a deep, aching sadness for the lonely, proud boy overwhelmed him.

_Bruce… I wish you could see him the way I do._

While Dick had been furious with Bruce as he tore out of Gotham on his motorcycle, that anger had cooled somewhat in the intervening days. But at that moment while observing Damian hesitantly reach out his hand to gently stroke the fawn's face, Dick felt a simmering anger begin to take hold. Even during their longest period of estrangement, Dick had never felt quite this disappointed with Bruce, having taken full responsibility for his own part in their quarrels.

Bruce had always been about cold logic, grim dedication, and unwavering pursuit of justice when it came to the mission. When it came to his personal life, one couldn't say the same. Bruce's logic and reason seemed to take a flying leap when it came to guarding his emotions to avoid suffering from personal loss again. Therefore, he pushed people away, hurting them first before they had a chance to hurt him, only to come to his senses and apologize later in that blundering way of his.

Sadly, something would invariably happen to set off the cycle once again, earning Bruce the title of _King of Mixed Signals and Inconstant Behavior_. Dick had once suggested to Alfred after yet another period of estrangement between him and Bruce that Batman should simply install a revolving door at the entrance to the Cave in order to save time.

Dick wasn't sure, of course, but he wondered if this was why Bruce had made such little effort to get to really know Damian in the short time that he had been back. All he knew was that if Bruce were standing in front of him at the moment, Dick would have happily throttled him for having made no effort to share this type of experience with Damian as he once had with him. _Among other reasons_, he added darkly.

_* D * d * d * D *_

The next morning, they pulled out of Yellowstone with great reluctance, but Dick knew it was time to move on. The rest of their tense, cross-country flight was alleviated somewhat by Damian's continued embarrassment over possibly being seen (even in disguise) in the jeep, which he had termed "_an embarrassing, decrepit wreck_." Amused, Dick came to his jeep's defense.

"L'il D, I'll have you know that the so-called _decrepit wreck_ is like this for show," he said in mock protest. "In fact, if I do say myself—which I do, by the way—the _outwardly battered_ appearance of the jeep is almost as good as one of Zatanna's glamor charms." He added the last with just a hint of pride in his workmanship.

In fact, the vehicle's V8 engine and chassis were in such pristine condition that they could have been installed in a first place entry in a Star City-500 stock car race. Also, while the interior may have looked shabby, it was actually quite comfortable and in excellent condition.

As they drove toward the park's west gate at a leisurely pace, Dick rolled his eyes at Damian's slouched posture. Despite his older brother's explanation, Damian continued to sit low and with his arms crossed belligerently in the passenger seat to minimize the chances of anyone spotting him.

"I refuse to be seen in this vehicle, Grayson! People will undoubtedly assume that we are homeless or live in a trailer—"

"Hey! _I_ lived in a trailer when I was a kid!"

"My point exactly!"

"Dami, it's not like anyone's gonna recognize you even _if_ they see you!" Dick cajoled, while pointing out the occasional, interesting landmark as they drove through the park. "Whoa! Bear cubs!"

"Where?" Damian asked eagerly. In the week they had camped out, they had not spotted a single bear, much to their mutual disappointment. Seeing the boy momentarily forget his concern over his non-existent reputation, Dick pulled the jeep over to the nearest scenic overlook. The two city boys enjoyed a few minutes gazing at the playful cubs romping in a nearby stream as the mama bear caught them their dinner…

_* D * d * d * D *_

**End of Part 4**

**Acknowledgements:** Thanks to my betas: Ellen, Xenith, and Beth.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: May 2013


	5. Chapter 5 - Three Months Later

**Summary**: Bruce finally decides to take matters into his hands, while his two missing sons settle into their new life.

(Un) Fortunate Son

By Syl Francis

"_How can I try to explain? _

_When I do he turns away again._

_It's always been the same, same old story._

_From the moment I could talk, I was ordered to listen..."_

_(Lyrics by Cat Stevens)_

_* D * d * d * D *_

_Three months later…_

Batman crouched on a tree branch, hidden in the shadows of the thick, leafy canopy. His mask optics recorded the frenzied activity in the distance. He had been monitoring the secret entrance for two days now. Before that he had walked the perimeter, which was the size of three footballs fields, and checked for booby-traps, surveillance cameras, and photoelectric eyes—anything to show him a weakness in their security measures.

He had the cowl camera recording the data real-time while synced to the supercomputer in the Cave. The computer, in turn, was running several analytical and facial recognitions programs simultaneously as he zoomed in on the people, vehicles, and equipment that came and went. So far there had been no major hits on the faces just several possibles; however, he wasn't exactly wasting his time out here. Some of the equipment he had spotted was highly sophisticated, and he could barely guess at its intended function; others were definitely warheads—whether conventional or nuclear, who couldn't be sure. Still, considering with whom he was dealing, he could wager an educated guess. The answers he sought were inside.

_Tonight then. I've waited long enough_.

Bruce had had no contact from Dick and Damian in the past three months. Not a whisper since Ohio, where their trail had gone cold. There in a 24-hour breakfast diner, a man and boy had stopped an armed robbery, taking down the three perpetrators—two on the inside; one in a getaway car—with relative ease.

Although the video from surveillance cameras briefly captured them in action, it was from such poor angles that all one could see was the team logos on their baseball caps and nondescript clothing. Then as they walked out onto the parking lot, all the video whited out for approximately two minutes. When the cameras came back online, all the video showed was an empty parking lot. Bruce tried the exterior shots that showed their arriving and walking into the restaurant, but came up against another white out—this one 45 seconds in duration.

Still, Bruce didn't need video evidence to know that the two heroes were his sons. The flying plate knocking the gun out of the perp's hand was proof enough, as was the ease with which the other one was disarmed. However, there was further evidence. As the heroes headed out the door, Bruce noticed the man place his hand on the boy's shoulder and give him an affectionate squeeze. What caught the worried father's eye and caused him to zoom in to take a closer look was the boy's achingly familiar irritated demeanor, demonstrated by his knocking the other's hand off his shoulder—a move and countermove he had observed countless times between his eldest and youngest. That was the last physical evidence he had of his lost sons.

After days and weeks of waiting and worrying, Bruce had driven even the usually unflappable Alfred to distraction with his long days and nights of going without eating or sleeping. He wished he had Tim and Barbara's cyber-skills to help him, but they were avoiding him like the plague. Before the whole Talia and Leviathan fiasco, Tim and Barbara had visited the manor and cave almost daily; since then, they only showed when it was mission essential. And Jason, like Dick and Damian, had apparently dropped off the face of the earth.

With his family having gone underground or simply staying away, Bruce found himself feeling bereft. Of course, the irony of the situation did not escape him. Whereas before, he would have claimed that it was better this way—his depending on no one but himself to accomplish the mission—with no partners or children being placed in harm's way; however, cold reality was an iron fist in his gut that kept twisting his insides with worry over his missing sons and guilt over the ones he had estranged.

To get to this point in his investigation, he started weeks ago by running a stealth recon of Infinity Island. He already suspected what he was going to find; therefore, he wasn't completely surprised to find the League of Shadows' headquarters abandoned. Not stopping there, he then reconned two other known Demon's Head satellite satraps—Bhutan and Qurac.

While these two facilities weren't entirely abandoned, the activity in and around them was less than what he had observed in the past. More importantly, there was no sign of Talia or her private guards. Whatever she may be up to, she wasn't doing it here. In the end, Batman decided to follow the money.

An organization as large as the League of Shadows had to have an extremely large operating budget. It required lots of capital, and not only for its day-to-day operations, but also for the "big events" it planned and executed, like the recent Battle of Gotham. It also needed the money to pay "outside contractors" for specific jobs that the League either couldn't be bothered with, or required a certain skill set—for example, Deathstroke the Terminator whom Talia hired last year to assassinate Dick, using Damian as his puppet. More recently, she had hired a group of ruthless mercenaries to take out Damian because he refused to return to her of his own free will.

After weeks of fruitless investigations and false trails, he had finally found a lead to these gunrunners and mercenaries. Now, here he was in Central Asia in the war torn country of Sarvanistan, a former member of the Soviet bloc. Bordering the countries of Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Afghanistan, Sarvanistan was abandoned by the Soviets in the late 1980s, leaving behind a power vacuum. The terrorist group known as the _Jihad_, originally from Qurac, soon moved in. The group's organization met its untimely end when its headquarters was destroyed by a nuclear holocaust.

The current group that called itself the _Jihad _was comprised of former Sarvani so-called freedom fighters and was inspired by the original _Jihad's _mission. Batman's investigation found a link between the current _Jihad_ and the League of Shadows. The League supplied the _Jihad_ with the arms and ammunition needed to wage their eternal war against the West, while the _Jihad_ executed swift and bloody attacks against specific targets that the League ordered taken out. Their well-hidden headquarters was located along the Sarvani-Afghani border in the Sarvan Mountains.

Satellite geo-scanning imagery had shown that most of the vast complex lay underground. It indicated at least six levels, but with the possibility of more. The scans had also shown that this area, a mountain pass located along the Sarvani-Afghani border, had extensive caverns that had been cut out naturally by an underground hot springs system.

Melting into the fast encroaching shadows, Batman slipped away to where he'd hidden the cloaked Batwing. Climbing into the aircraft, he made his way to the back storage compartment and removed his uniform. He quickly donned a full-body undergarment made of a lightweight material with properties stronger than Kevlar. Over this, he put on the appropriate native dress he had observed the majority of the men wearing as they entered and left the complex.

Calling up his wrist computer, he ran it through the facial recognition program, until he found one that fit his general height and build. Slipping on the EMP facemask, Batman synced it to the holographic image before him, and seconds later his face was an exact match.

He checked his watch. It was 5:00 p.m. local time. At this time of year in this latitude and mountainous region, night came quickly. It was already full dark outside.

_Now all that's left is that I don't run into my twin in the next few hours. _Although even if he did, Batman wasn't too concerned about being able to take him out…

_* D * d * d * D *_

Dick made his way to the lower levels of their home, a decommissioned Nike missile site they had moved into three months ago. It was only 5:00 a.m., but he had already heard Damian moving about. If he didn't get to the training room first, his younger brother would set the training program controls to the highest, most difficult levels and work himself to exhaustion again. The school principal had already called Dick twice this past month, concerned about Damian falling asleep in his classes.

_::Sigh:: Nothing's ever easy when your last name is Wayne._

With all the drama leading to their sudden departure from Gotham, their safe arrival in their new home for the foreseeable future—the small town of Stevensville, Washington—came as a relief to the brothers. For a brief moment, they could allow themselves a quiet respite from their Bat-duties. Feeling physically and emotionally drained, the boys took a few days to familiarize themselves with their new home and the surrounding rugged countryside.

_Nothing like living in a breathtakingly beautiful area in God's country to give a guy a new perspective on life_, Dick mused. _Or, as the state's motto would say, 'hope to the future.'_

Of course, because their current safe house was located in the great Pacific Northwest, they had managed to be situated as far from Gotham City and Bruce as was humanly possible and still remain in the same country. Dick didn't know how long they would be able to stay there undetected, but he would make sure that he and Damian would be ready for the time that Talia or Bruce or both finally located their whereabouts. That they would be found in the near future Dick had no doubt, and so he began almost immediately to prepare for the inevitable reunion.

As for their new home, while still living in Bludhaven and heir apparent to a considerable fortune, Dick had gone shopping for real estate. As he had told Damian, he had established a series of safe houses around the world. While most were fairly modest—like the townhouse in Indiana and meant for only a brief stay—this place, built over the site of an extensive underground bunker that once housed a Cold War era missile silo, was one of his most ambitious purchases.

It wasn't easy to keep the acquisition of such a large complex, which had been previously owned by the U.S. government, a secret—especially if your adoptive father happened to be Bruce Wayne _and_ the Batman. Most of the extant Nike sites were sold for a song during what amounted to a federal land grab the likes of which had not been seen since the Oklahoma Land Rush of the 1880s.

The fact that the feds were more than anxious to off-load the decommissioned sites in a White Elephant sale at ridiculously low prices with almost no questions asked was a major selling point. That the property was abutted to a state-protected rainforest to the north and west, which ran for a few miles and boasted several walking trails, didn't hurt either. Farther to the west, one could see the hazy, snow-covered peaks of the Olympic Mountain range.

Dick was only the latest owner of the property. The first had been a wealthy businessman who bought it as a tax write-off. He made several improvements to the 20-acres of rugged land above ground, building a luxury, two-story cabin with four bedrooms and three baths. It had a huge fireplace and came fully furnished with the bright colors and comfortable, rustic style reminiscent of a western motif.

The outside had a two-level patio/deck in the back—its attractive design useful for cookouts and general relaxation—and a well-manicured lawn with a natural wild garden, complete with a small, musical waterfall. It also had several outbuildings to include a detached, four-car garage built to resemble an old-style gabled barn…

"_It's called a Dutch gambrel barn—" Dick had explained excitedly to Damian as they did a walk-through of the property upon first arriving. "—because of the gabled roof." _

"_That's reeeeeally fascinating, Grayson," Damian said while rolling his eyes. "I can hardly wait to tweet it."_

_Grinning, Dick put his hand on Damian's shoulder and began steering him toward the house. "It's not what's topside that makes the property interesting, Li'l D." His voice dropped menacingly. "It's what lies below." With those words, he tackled his little brother to the ground and started tickling him. As they rolled on the lawn, shrieks of laughter coupled with cries of "Stop it, Grayson, or I'll disembowel you in your sleep!" echoed from the surrounding foothills…_

The underground complex consisted of two, 5000 sq. ft. missile silos. A spiral staircase led down into the silos, which were protected from an outside nuclear attack by a twin set of titanium-steel blast doors. These were kept closed at all times for security purposes and were encoded to the brothers' palm print, voice, and retina.

For emergency egress, the silos originally had a built-in escape hatch and missile elevator, which had been sealed by the air force before they had abandoned the site. Dick returned one of the missile elevators to full operational status and converted the respective silo into his Nightwing bunker. The elevator, which opened up in the garage/barn, had been used to raise and lower the Nike missiles to the surface, doubling as a missile launch pad.

Now, it held a mini-Batwing, which had been Dick's high school graduation present. Wally and Roy received computers for their graduation; Dick got a stealth jet capable of achieving hypersonic speeds. The elevator also doubled as egress for the Bat ground vehicles: Dick's motorcycle, which he'd dragged along on his cross-country road trip, and a flying Batmobile.

Additionally, Dick installed two more levels and furnished them with necessary Bat-equipment: a uniform vault, complete with extra Nightwing and Robin uniforms; a complete forensics lab that was the equal to Batman's; an assortment of defensive weapons, non-lethal ammunition, and spare parts…

As Damian looked around the bunker for the first time, he gave Dick a smirk of approval. "I am strangely impressed by your unusual bout of foresight, Grayson. There might be hope for you, yet."

The second silo had a gym with a large open floor space for hand-to-hand sparring and tumbling, a top-of-the-line exercise room that included his favorite gymnastics equipment, and an elevated indoor track that measured a distance of one-eighth mile. However, none of the improvements were quite as important in Dick's mind as the basketball half-court he had personally installed three months ago, the second weekend there...

_* D * d * d * D *_

_Three months ago…_

That Saturday Dick was up earlier than normal, even for a Bat. He had obtained all of the necessary materials the previous afternoon and stored them downstairs before picking Damian up from school. He worked steadily through the morning and emerged around noon in time to fix himself and Damian a simple lunch: a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with a cold glass of beer for him; without the ham and a tall glass of soymilk for Damian.

In deference to Damian's self-professed vegan diet, Dick used a non-dairy cheese substitute in their sandwiches. In fact, in the short time they had been living together, Dick had made a concerted effort to learn to cook vegan, using recipe websites for suggestions and actually buying a vegan cookbook. He was no Alfred, but thankfully, he was no Bruce, either. Neither he nor Damian had suffered even one bout of food poisoning yet.

As he set the glass of soymilk before Damian, the younger boy scowled at the perceived slight. "I am not an _infant_, Grayson! I was served wine with my meals in Grandfather's complex."

"And when you turn twenty-one, I'll buy you a bottle of _Dom Pérignon. _I promise, I'll even do the pouring."

"_::T-t::"_

They sat outside in the patio and ate their lunch in companionable silence, the distant white peaks gleaming in the mid-September sun. There was a slight chill in the air, a harbinger of the fast-approaching change of season. Afterward, Damian stacked the dishes in the dishwasher, grumbling under his breath regarding his being reduced to menial labor.

"You expect _me_ to do manual labor?" Damian had squawked in protest. "A prince of the House of al Ghul? Grayson, I'll have you know that I had servants whose only job was to bring me my shoes and socks in the morning. Others—whipping boys—who took my punishments when I did not meet Grandfather's or Mother's high expectations!"

"Damian… you're not a prince anymore. You're my brother. Now… the Graysons always did everything together as a family—including house chores. Mom cooked, so Dad and I cleaned up afterward. I know you're used to things being different, but—look around. There are no servants to dress you, no Alfred to pick up after us." Damian crossed his arms and jutted out his chin stubbornly, ready to argue.

"Dami, we're either a team, or we're not. You're a ten-year-old kid, and where I come from that means you have to learn to do your fair share around the house. So… I cooked, that means you clean up afterwards." He held up his hand to forestall any arguments. "And don't worry… I'll help as well. See… unlike some people, I actually enjoy helping out around the house. Makes me feel useful." He smiled. "It used to drive Alfred crazy my first couple months in the manor."

In the end, despite his usual air of discontent, Damian set about his assigned tasks—wiping down the glass-topped patio table with spray disinfectant and paper towels as well as loading the dishwasher—quickly and efficiently. Dick, meanwhile, took out the trash, and decided to wait till evening to set the garbage cans out for morning pickup. When he came back inside, Dick said, "As soon as you're done, meet me downstairs."

When Damian stepped into the training room, he saw Dick working diligently at the far side of the silo. Crossing the gym to reach him, Damian smirked at the sight of a tool belt around Dick's waist. "New version of Batman's utility belt, Grayson?"

Dick just smiled, not rising to the bait. "Hey, I can use an extra hand over here." It was only then that Damian realized Dick was pointing to a pole, a backboard, and a hoop—lying, scattered about on the floor. Placing his fists on his hips, Damian assumed a mock glare.

"I'm not entirely certain of the rules, but I don't think that's how you're supposed to play basketball," Damian observed.

Dick just rolled his eyes. "No kidding. Look, this is at minimum a two-man job; and you've just been volunteered to help out."

"That's not exactly the definition of volunteering," Damian pointed out.

"It is in this instance. Now, come on… let's put our backs into it." With both brothers working together, the portable basketball backboard and net were set up in record time.

"Why basketball? Neither of us is a particular fan of the sport. Are we even going to use it?" The way Damian asked the question, it made the sport of basketball seem little more than a frivolous waste of one's time.

Dick wasn't sure how to respond. Truthfully, he only added the half-court for a little one-on-one with Damian. He remembered playing with Bruce when he was younger and later with Tim. There was nothing like a fun game of pick up for a bit of family bonding. "Are you kidding? Of course, we're gonna use it. It's an integral part of your training."

"It _is_? How exactly?"

To answer Damian, Dick simply told him the same thing that Bruce had said all those years ago. "Dami, basketball is one of the best training tools for improved hand-and-eye coordination. You didn't know that?"

Damian shook his head no.

Dick sighed dramatically. "Well, come then, young Grasshopper. There's no time to waste if we're going to rectify this serious shortcoming in your training. Let's start with the basics."

Damian nodded, accepting Dick's explanation at face value. Within minutes, he was grudgingly participating in what was to become his weekly basketball workout with Dick. Naturally, the brothers played with Bat rules, which made for some very inventive moves that would be considered illegal under any other circumstances…

_* D * d * d * D *_

_The Present…_

Dick smiled as he made his way across the gym. Teaching Damian how to be a kid was almost a fulltime job, but each smile or surprised look of enjoyment that made it past the boy's defenses made the effort worth it. The training regimen Dick drew up for Damian and himself incorporated an increased level of difficulty from the one he had followed in Gotham. Additionally, despite facing imminent danger from Damian's "loving" parents, Dick was adamant about introducing his youngest sibling to other, age-appropriate activities—something Damian had yet to thank him for.

As Dick stepped into the training room, he saw that the younger was intently going through one of the many virtual training programs that Dick had uploaded onto the mainframe. Damian had selected one with a high number of opponents and the highest skill levels. Dick observed him without commenting, marveling at the boy's martial artistry, inwardly proud that he himself had taught Damian several of the moves that he was now using.

After thirty minutes of an intense workout with no end in sight, Dick went to the program control console and changed the parameters. The difficulty level began to taper off, and soon Damian had disabled the last of the holographic opponents. As soon as he did, the virtual arena dissolved around him, and the computer-generated voice of the referee intoned: _"Final results—30 disabled, 20 unconscious, 5 dead. You have exceeded the use of lethal force… Disqualified."_

Panting from his exertion, Damian glared at Dick but didn't protest the score. Killing was something that his mother and grandfather advocated and had worked relentlessly to instill in him. As a result, it was something he had to deliberately work at in order to avoid it. However, it wasn't easy to fight against something so deeply ingrained that it was as much a part of him as his right arm.

To his shame, he had killed his first man at age five. As a reward, he was introduced to his mother, Talia al Ghul, for the first time. He recalled being dry mouthed and somewhat in awe of the beautiful woman who glided regally into his private chambers. Smiling, she had walked up to him and cupped his face gently in her hand.

"_Congratulations on achieving this important milestone, my son," _she had said._ "You are truly your father's son…and mine. You are destined for greatness, Damian. One day, you will rule the world at my side."_ She then proceeded to inform him of her future plans for him. More importantly, she told him of the legendary Batman—his father. It was not the first time that he had heard of the great detective, his grandfather's greatest adversary, a man whose keen intellect and cunning had proven the equal of Ra's al Ghul.

However, it was the first time that he had heard any mention of his relationship to the famous Dark Knight. Also, it was his mother who told him that the Detective's admirable traits had led to her falling in love with him—and that Damian himself had been the result of that love.

"_You are Ibn al Xu'ffasch, the one true son of the Bat."_

That day was indelibly imprinted in the boy's mind. His mother's announcement had stirred in him a deep desire to know his father. That day he made it a point to research all he could on Bruce Wayne, the Batman. To his surprise and deep-seated feelings of jealousy, he found out that his father had adopted three boys through the years, and each in turn had served as his partner, Robin the Boy Wonder.

Reading their biographies, Damian dismissed Jason Todd and Timothy Drake out of hand. Neither in his eyes was worthy of the mantle of the Dark Knight's squire. However, that was not the case with the first Robin—Richard Grayson, a child acrobat who was adopted by Bruce Wayne at age eight, shortly after his parents were murdered during a performance. Even Damian, a boy not known for his empathy, could see the similarity between Dick's tragedy and his father's at the same age. His father undoubtedly felt a connection to the grieving boy and thus offered him a home.

Damian remembered falling asleep, wondering what it would feel like to fight alongside Batman as the new Robin. That night he dreamed of soaring across the city's rooftops with his father. Together they silently stalked their prey, swooping down on their unsuspecting targets, and dispatching them quickly and ruthlessly. Damian wielded the _katana _sword that his grandfather had given him, the same _katana_ he had used for his first kill. Before the night was over, the city ran red with the blood of their adversaries, and his father's enemies knew that the Batman finally had a squire worthy of being called Robin the Boy Wonder…

"Breakfast in fifteen," Dick said, bringing Damian back to the present and the reminder of his father's rejection.

Damian nodded. He would have preferred to continue training—he had to be ready for his mother's return—but he knew Dick would never allow him to skip school to do so. "You realize that English grammar lessons will prove stupidly useless against the League of Shadows," he said petulantly.

"Oh, I don't know, you can always _punctuate_—" Dick went down quickly and swiped Damian's legs out from under him. "—your attack with a well-chosen, grammatically correct quip or two!" Dick grinned as he easily back-flipped and regained his feet. "It's a Robin thing."

Damian glared daggers at his older brother. If it weren't for the fact that he knew Dick could wipe the floor with him with little to no effort, Damian would go for the counterattack. But he was hungry and if he didn't shower soon, he'd also be late for school. Which brought up his next point of contention.

"I also see little point in the school requiring me to write my assignments by hand rather than allow me to use the extensive electronic equipment that's available in the twenty-first century. It's a complete waste of my valuable time."

"Okay… I admit that _does_ suck, but Stevens MS is the only middle school around here. It's either that or back to elementary school." Dick gave him a knowing look. They had already been over this. Damian was ten years old, which technically placed him in the fifth grade, but Dick had allowed him to be tested and moved up to the seventh grade. The problem now was that he had no children his own age to befriend. His classmates may be only two to three years older, but in kid years (_Was there such a thing,_ Dick wondered, _like dog years?)_ the age gap may as well have been a wide chasm.

Of course, Dick had gone through something similar when he was Damian's age, but there was a world of difference between the two boys. Dick had been friendly and outgoing, gifted with the Grayson charm and thus making friends easily. Plus, he had the Titans. Outwardly, Damian was highly intelligent, arrogant, and dismissive of others, while inside he was more reticent and shy. Still hurting from his father's rejection, Damian was feeling somewhat lost and unsure of himself; however, the small boy would have rather fought his classmates to the death—figurative only, as Dick would frown on his actually killing any of them—than admit he didn't know _how_ to make friends.

And, while Damian could have easily tested up to high school level, Dick refused to expose him to the much older and more mature students. Besides, it would call attention to them and that was something they definitely wanted to avoid. "Give me four laps around the gym and then hit the showers, Dami."

Damian nodded reluctantly, knowing that the topic of school was one that he was not going to win. He also knew that even though Dick was technically his kidnapper, he only wanted what was best for him and to provide him with some small semblance of a normal life. In Dick's mind, this included school, friends, and other meaningless afterschool activities. And today he had soccer practice after school.

"Don't forget you have soccer practice this afternoon," Dick reminded him. "I'll pick you up at 5:30, right afterward…okay?"

_::T-t::_ "Worst rescue _ever_," Damian muttered.

"What? Didn't catch that, L'il D," Dick teased, grabbing Damian by the neck and giving him an affectionate noogie.

"Grayson! I know a thousand ways to kill you! A _thousand_!" Damian growled. Inwardly, Damian smiled. He didn't really need to make any other friends. He already had a best friend in his older brother, and one was more than enough. Quickly releasing the grumbling boy, Dick laughed good-naturedly as he made his way back upstairs to the kitchen.

Damian sighed as he took his laps. The thing of it was that he _did_ know a thousand different ways to kill a man. Of course, his father's rules against killing were practically ironclad. It was the one thing he would neither tolerate nor forgive from any of his sons with the possible exception of Jason, the poster child for Bats Gone Bad. Now that Jason's homicidal tendencies seemed to be tapering off, Bruce was slowly taking him back into the fold.

And yet, when it came to him, Damian just never seemed to do enough to gain his father's trust. Damian wanted his father's approval more than anything, but it appeared that no matter what he did, he would never be good enough to earn it. Although he would deny it if asked, Batman's rejection hurt Damian at such a deep level that the young hero did not know whether he would ever be able to forgive him.

_* D * d * d * D *_

As he dressed in the large bathroom after his shower, Damian thought about the past months with Dick and how he felt about his older brother. Dick had done more than save him from his mother, he had extended the hand of friendship time and time again since they had first met. Dick could have easily turned his back on him when their father had "died"; instead, he had entrusted him with the mantle of Robin and made him his partner.

Damian remembered the first time Dick, who was filling in as Batman at the time, had saved his life. He had been shocked that someone had actually bothered to come for him despite his obvious failure on the job. Rather than letting him die, as was his due and just punishment for disobeying orders, Dick had followed him to the Circus of Strange and saved him from Professor Pyg and his minion dolls in the nick of time. No one had ever done anything like that for him in his short life. In fact, he had assumed that he would be killed—and rightfully so—at the time. His mother and grandfather had certainly instilled that thought in him for as long as he could remember.

Damian didn't understand the funny feeling in his stomach or the sudden weakness at the knees when Batman came swooping in in his oversized motorcycle and scooped him from the very jaws of death. It was only later that he realized that it was not the cold, clenched feeling that regularly squeezed his insides. It was a different feeling altogether—something soft and warm.

Sadly, it wasn't enough to stave off the recurring bad dreams that had been haunting him for many weeks now. Since his mother had declared him an enemy of the House of al Ghul, Damian often awakened, drenched in sweat from yet another nightmare. It was usually a variation on the same one…

_Damian as Batman is responsible for a nuclear holocaust that destroys the world. In the dream, his mother urges him to press the button to bring on Armageddon. Meanwhile Dick—chained, gagged, and suffering from unspeakable tortures—pleads silently with his pain-filled, deep blue eyes to fight back. _

_Against his will, Damian's finger moves inexorably closer and closer to the oversized red button. His mother stands behind him, the remote control box connected to the neural implants in his spine held carelessly in her hand. She smiles smugly as she mimes his movements with her other hand. Unable to stop himself, Damian turns one last apologetic look at Dick and presses the button._

_The method of destruction varies, but it always ends the same—Dick's eyes forgive him for what he's about to do…_

Damian usually woke up immediately thereafter in a cold sweat. Sometimes, a warm hand on his shoulder and a soft voice telling him everything's going be all right soothed him back to sleep. At other times, he awoke to find himself alone in his darkened room, his thoughts and fears chaotic. On these nights he tried to resist the siren call of his brother's protective and familiar presence—after all, he was an al Ghul _and_ a Wayne—but in the end, the little boy who was in need of comfort won out. Feeling ashamed of his weakness, Damian nonetheless sneaked into Dick's room and quietly lay down beside him. The next thing he knew, he found himself cocooned within Dick's warm, safe arms.

"_I've got you, Dami… I'll never let you fall…" _

His father may have rejected him, but Damian knew that he had Dick's unconditional support and love; unfortunately, like their father and mentor, Dick also believed in the absolute sanctity of life. In Damian's mind, that did not mean he shouldn't prepare to defend those he loved against a ruthless enemy that was hell bent on killing them all—his mother.

**End of Part 5**

**Author's Note:** This is the last update for a while—a month, possibly two. I want to thank everyone who has been reading my story, and more importantly, those of you who have left a review. Your words of encouragement have gone a long way toward helping me break through some of my writer's block. I am working on the conclusion, so hopefully, I'll be back later this summer.

**Acknowledgement: **Thanks go again to my three betas: Beth, Xenith, and Ellen. Any mistakes left are mine, because I don't know how to leave well enough alone.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: May 2013


	6. Chapter 6 - Bats, soccer, school

**Summary**: Bruce infiltrates the enemy stronghold and causes general mayhem. Dick gets a job, while Damian plays soccer and goes to school.

(Un) Fortunate Son

By Syl Francis

"_Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero." _

_(by Marc Brown)_

_* D * d * d * D *_

Batman hitched a ride into the complex, hidden inside one of the many vehicles heavily laden with equipment. Once deep inside the mountain in what looked like a staging area for men and material, he easily slipped out of his hiding place and fell in back with a group of men who were being quick marched to another area. He bided his time until they were turning into a blind corner. The next instant, he grabbed the man immediately in front of him and subdued him into unconsciousness.

He dragged his victim to the nearest utility closet and stripped him of his identification badge and weapons. Working quickly, Batman ran the I.D. badge through his wrist computer; the facial recognition program identified him as one of the men who had been at the scene of the attempted assassination of Damian a few months ago. Bruce felt a sudden rage flare inside him. It took all of his willpower to tamp it down and keep himself from ruthlessly killing the man lying helplessly at his feet.

He re-programmed the EMP mask to take on the features of the assassin who was even now regaining consciousness. Batman zip-tied him at the wrists and ankles, gagged him, and blindfolded him, then took out a hypodermic from his belt and injected the fast-acting sedative into the prisoner's arm. The assassin slipped bonelessly and silently into deep unconsciousness without ever having fully awakened. He donned the ID badge and weapon he'd confiscated and was about to head out of the closet, when he spotted a toolbox stored on a neat shelf along with other custodial supplies. On impulse, Batman grabbed it and walked out.

He strode purposefully through the long, dimly lit hallways that had been blasted out of the rock from the surrounding mountains. In addition to the vehicle loading docks and staging area that he had already seen, Batman discovered that the four levels immediately below were could be mistaken for any Fortune 500 office complex: carpeted floors, recessed lighting, paneled walls, and high-quality office furnishings. The five lower sub-levels were more utilitarian: the floors were metal grating, and the electrical wiring was exposed along the rock-carved walls.

He spent several hours unobtrusively walking through the many corridors, exuding the confident air of someone who knew where he was going and in a hurry to get there. People he passed in the hallway caught sight of the toolbox he was carrying and immediately glanced away dismissing him from their minds even the armed guards. Ironically, the toolbox had proved more useful than the I.D. badge he had confiscated.

The upper levels were comprised of the _Jihad's_ headquarters, VIP offices, and personal quarters. The lower levels were used for training, barracks-like living quarters, mess hall and infirmary. He found the communications control center, and looked askance through the glass partitions, catching a brief glimpse of the equipment and personnel manning it. As he moved past the bulletproof windows, he noted the armed guards standing at strategic points around the room.

The lowest level had the power generator room—a large, open space that house five electric generators, each generator about the size of a minivan. The generators converted thermal energy, fed directly to them from the underground hot springs that ran through the region, into electric energy. Grabbing a clipboard that was hanging conveniently on a wall, Batman held it authoritatively and began walking around the power generator room. He made a show of inspecting the various gauges, nodding as if satisfied by what he saw, and writing on the clipboard. As he did so, he made note of the guard posts: five men on the floor, overseen by five more on an elevated catwalk. He also noted the generators' weak points and where best to place explosives should the need arise.

Satisfied that he had seen all he was going to see, Batman nodded at the guard nearest the entrance and walked out.

_* D * d * d * D *_

After Dick dropped Damian off at school, he did some quick shopping in the nearby town of Stevensville—named after the first territorial governor of Washington, Isaac Stevens. It was a fairly prosperous town with its main industries being tourism and technology. The scenic location was known for its natural beauty, as well as its hunting and fishing. Two years ago, the town council scored an economic boon when Starrware Industries-West agreed to locate a subsidiary branch there.

In fact, Dick took a position at SI-W as a part-time consultant when he and Damian first arrived in the area; or rather, Danny Goodman did. He worked from home, logging into the SI-W remote server between the hours of 9:00-3:00. Dick didn't really need to work, but Goodman had to have some form of income to support himself and his brother Davey. He basically wrote and reviewed software code for the company, something he could do in his sleep. (Robin had hacked the JLA Watchtower when he was only ten, a boyish prank that had greatly annoyed the Founding 7. Batman had squeezed his shoulder and told him, "Next time, don't get caught," an order Robin happily carried out.)

The first couple weeks at his new job, Dick performed his tasks so fast and so accurately that he was quickly offered fulltime employment with a hefty, eye-popping raise in salary and incredible benefits. Dick considered the offer for about five seconds; however, with both Talia and Bruce searching for them, Dick knew it would be too risky. Besides, it was imperative that he find Talia's whereabouts, which he couldn't do if he was tied down to a 9-to-5 job.

In the end, the SI-W management offered him his own choice of hours—still working from home—as long as he logged in a minimum of 40 hours a week. Even with everything Dick had to do as a fugitive hiding out, while trying to determine Talia's movements and remain under Batman's radar, the six-figure salary plus medical benefits was something that he couldn't turn down. While Dick had enough squirreled away in various offshore accounts, it would be nice to be able to utilize a local bank without the fear of his illegal online money transfers being traced back to him. Also, should either he or Damian need a doctor or hospitalization, it was nice to know that he had the necessary medical coverage under the company health plan.

"A win-win situation as they say," Dick muttered as he signed the employment contract.

Better yet, he could now legitimately work from home for a few hours a day, and still have time to work _downstairs_ in the bunker without worrying about finances. On the plus side, the projects his boss, Simon Peters, had proposed to him had piqued Dick's interest. While SI-W was the industry leader in creating software programs to support environmentally friendly green tech, Dick would be working in a new area for Starrware—medical nanotechnology.

The irony did not escape Dick that he was working at home behind a desk for several hours a day. He had fought long and hard against any kind of desk job whenever Bruce and Lucius Fox had broached the topic of his taking the reins as head of WayneTech, a major subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises, a job for which both men felt that he was strongly qualified.

_Of course,_ Dick grinned ruefully, _Starrware Industries isn't WayneTech, and Simon Peters sure as hell isn't Lucius Fox. But then, Karen Starr isn't Bruce Wayne. Aaaannnnd…if I have to work behind a desk, there's a lot to be said for having Power Girl as my boss as opposed to Batman._

Checking the time, Dick saw that it was past noon. Logging off the SI-W remote server, he went to the kitchen and fixed himself a quick turkey on rye with mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato. Opening a new bag of chips, he set a handful on the plate and laid it down on the breakfast bar. He poured himself a glass of iced tea and then took everything outside to the deck. He ate _al fresco, _enjoying the clear blue skies, distant mountains, and the quiet murmur of the garden waterfall. He watched contentedly as colorful butterflies and black and yellow bumblebees fluttered and buzzed through the garden, alighting on or hovering just above the occasional wild flower.

He only wished that the life he and Damian were living here were real. But Dick knew everything was a lie and that they didn't have much time before it all blew up in their faces. He had to find Talia before she found them, or rather, before she found Damian. He had to flush her out into the open, and then he had to destroy her one way or the other. Dick had never killed anyone intentionally in his life, even when he had served on the Bludhaven Police Department, but he knew that if it came to protecting Damian or killing Talia, then he would do whatever was necessary.

Since the Battle of Gotham, Talia had gone deeper underground than the Daughter of the Demon had ever been before. The JLA, Titans, _et al_ had decimated the ranks of her League of Shadows, temporarily setting back her bid for world conquest (and/or annihilation). His investigation and reports from _friends_ who were helping him on the sly, showed that she had abandoned her Infinity Island headquarters. According to his hidden mission files, Batman had also reconned the place and arrived at the same conclusion.

But Talia had disappeared almost three months ago, and Dick knew better than to believe that she had been sitting idly in the meantime. No, Talia was biding her time, possibly licking her wounds, while she rebuilt her empire. When she was through waiting, she would return with a vengeance until her anger at him and Damian was somehow assuaged.

Dick knew that her second "son," Leviathan the Heretic, had been killed during the fray. He had apparently taken his own life per Talia's orders. When Dick had first learned of the suicide, his blood had gone cold. It was a reminder of what happened to her minions who either disobeyed her or failed in their mission. And that's what Damian was to her—a minion expected to carry out her orders with blind obedience, even killing himself. He was little more than a pawn to be sacrificed in her war against Bruce.

"Talk about a Mommy Dearest," he muttered. "I can see why Bruce would want to send Damian back to her. She's so loving, so warm, so filled with sweet chocolaty goodness—just like the old crone in the gingerbread house _before_ she tried to eat Hansel and Gretel."

Of course, only now after everything that had happened in Gotham, Batman had apparently decided that enough was enough. Dick's sources had revealed that the Dark Knight had left Gotham a few weeks ago and was searching relentlessly for his lovely ex. He had left Batgirl, Red Robin, and Red Hood (of all people) in charge of the city. And to Dick's utter surprise, he had also asked the Justice League to keep an eye out in case the home team needed help.

"_Now_, he decides to become reasonable," Dick muttered with a shake of the head. He had hacked Batman's secure files, which showed that he was searching for her somewhere in Central Asia near the Afghanistan-Sarvanistan border, as she had pulled out of Infinity Island and left only a skeleton crew at her other known locations. The good news that Dick could infer from this intel was that Talia's cloning facilities at Infinity Island had been shut down. Not taking any chances, Batman had taken it a step further with a few well-placed explosives to shut it down permanently. Of course, this only begged the question: Had Talia replaced the facilities, and if so, where? More importantly, did she still have samples of Damian's DNA readily on hand?

Dick chewed on his bottom lip as he studied the files before him. _Where the hell is she, and what is she doing right now?_

What frightened Dick was that with Talia's organization having perfected the cloning process, she could set up anywhere. Even worse, if she had more of Damian's DNA available, she could continue to clone him for years to come. She could even grow her own army of Leviathans, monsters whose only loyalty was to their "mother." And that was a frightening scenario that Dick knew he couldn't allow, not only for Damian's sake, but also for everyone else's.

_* D * d * d * D *_

Batman was about to head toward the staircase leading back upstairs, when he changed his mind at the last minute and headed in the other direction. As he turned a corner, Batman came on a long corridor that ended abruptly at a large, heavy-gauge steel door. Two armed guards stood impassively outside the closed door. Signs in several languages, to include the local Sarvani dialect, warned that no one was allowed in without proper security clearance.

Seriously doubting that the toolbox would gain him entry this time, Batman nevertheless approached with his usual confident stride. The guards immediately closed ranks and brought their weapons to bear.

"Halt! State your business." The guard who spoke had a double strand of decorative piping on his sleeve, identifying him as the corporal of the guard.

Batman shook his head and shrugged. "I was sent here to fix a toilet that's running, but I can't find the latrine."

"_Fool_!" the corporal of the guard spat. "Can't you read? This is Red Section. It is off-limits to all except authorized personnel." The corporal pointed at his red badge; the one Batman wore was white. "Only red badges authorized beyond this point." He waved his arm in the direction Batman had come from. "The latrines are down that way."

Batman gave the guard a look of apologetic embarrassment and bowed. "My apologies, corporal. I must have just missed them."

The corporal seemed somewhat mollified by the obsequious apology. He shrugged and lowered his weapon. "Well, there was no harm done. However, you must leave this area immediately, or I shall be forced to put you on report."

Batman placed his right hand over his heart and bowed deeply. "I thank you, corporal. May your kindnesses to this most unworthy person be paid back a thousand fold." With those words, Batman turned and headed back the way he had come.

_* D * d * d * D *_

Dick pulled the jeep onto the grassy parking area. The local youth soccer league didn't have a lot of funding, but what they lacked in money for proper equipment, the kids and parents made up for in enthusiasm. Even Damian despite his protestations had started to enjoy his time spent with the team, both practices and games. Dick was glad and relieved. He felt it important that Damian have some normalcy in his life, considering how badly Bruce and Talia had screwed it up for him.

Dick walked up to the sidelines, smiling at the total abandon with which Damian ran across the playing field, kicking the ball. As a defender came up to steal the ball from him, Damian kicked it over his opponent's head, easily sidestepped, and slammed the ball into the goal with a headshot. Damian's team cheered and ran up to him, slapping him on the back. The coach blew the whistle, ending the practice. He clapped Damian on the shoulder and spoke to the team as a whole. The boys formed a huddle and then broke it enthusiastically, shouting their team motto.

Soon the boys were collecting their gear and heading toward their respective cars and waiting family members. Dick waved at Damian to catch his attention. Damian nodded and waved back, then turned and helped the coach collect equipment. Dick knew the team members took turns with this particular chore. Today, it was apparently Damian's turn…

Damian tossed the last soccer ball into the large equipment bag that another boy held open for him. As soon as he jammed it inside, the two boys pulled the drawstrings closed.

"Thanks, Davey, Evan," the coach said, grabbing the heavy equipment bag and tossing it effortlessly over his shoulder.

"No prob, Coach," Evan said. "Hey, Davey…is that your brother waiting for you?"

"Yes, that's him."

"You sure are lucky."

Damian gave the other boy a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Well…I have an older brother, and all he ever does is give me a hard time." Evan shrugged. "Your brother seems pretty cool. That's all." Evan lightly slapped Damian's arm in farewell and started jogging toward the sidelines where his mother was waiting for him.

"You're right! He is!" Damian called to Evan's retreating back. His face lighting up in a wide grin, he added, "See you next practice!" Evan looked back long enough to return the smile and wave goodbye.

From the sidelines, Dick had observed the interaction. He couldn't make out what the boys were saying, but whatever it was, it had made Damian smile happily. Dick felt something warm burst inside him. Whatever happened in the days and weeks to come, that genuine smile on his little brother's face made it all worth his while. This called for ice cream.

As Damian came to him, Dick grabbed him in a quick manly hug and helped him put his gear away in the back. As soon as Damian was strapped in on the passenger side, Dick asked, "How do pizza and ice cream sound?"

"I don't know. Does this mean I have to miss one of your vegan culinary masterpieces?"

"You're right…vegan lasagna it is."

"Grayson, I shall smother you in your sleep if you don't turn this decrepit vehicle toward Luciano's Pizza Parlor."

Dick smiled to himself.

_* D * d * d * D *_

Batman walked away from Red Section with one thought in mind: obtain a red badge and talk his way through those heavy-gauge steel doors. He checked his watch. It was getting late and night was falling again. He had been going for almost 72 hours without sleep or food. It was time to stand down at least temporarily. He knew he had to find the answers he was looking for, but he would do himself no favors if he lost his edge and ended up killed or captured just because he was tired and hungry.

Moving purposefully, he slipped back into the stairwell and made his way to a maintenance shaft he had spotted earlier. Batman knew that time was running out; he had to find a new identity before the man he'd knocked out was discovered and the alarm sounded. Suddenly, an ear-piercing wail resounded within the complex.

"And there it goes." Batman shook his head ruefully. He heard heavy boots moving at a double time on the other side of fire doors that separated the stairwell from the main corridors. _Time to disappear_.

He hurried up the stairs to the landing on the next level up. He had seen the maintenance shafts located on every other floor during his reconnaissance of the complex. The entrance to the maintenance shaft was covered with a hinged metal grill that was held in place with a simple set of screws. Taking out a screwdriver from the toolbox he was still carrying, Batman quickly removed the screws. He climbed in, and closing the grill behind him, began crawling through the narrow passage.

He used his wrist computer to locate the floor's communications distribution panel and silently crept toward it. Once he found it, Batman jacked into it and was soon hacked into the local network. Running a rapid search, he reprogrammed the security sensors; within seconds, as far as the motion sensors in the complex were concerned, Batman was now invisible. And none too soon if the combat boots running up and down the stairwell were any indication of how close he had come to being discovered.

Now he had to stay invisible long enough to find out what was behind the heavy-gauge steel doors in Red Section.

_* D * d * d * D *_

The next morning, Dick slowed the jeep to a stop at the school's drop-off/pick-up point. As Damian got out from the passenger side, Dick went round back and lowered the tailgate, taking out Damian's book bag, gym bag, and lunch bag. Shutting the tailgate, he helped Damian with the book bag before handing him the rest.

Crouching down until he was at eye level with his little brother, Dick checked him over one last time, his large hands coming to rest lightly on the boy's small shoulders. Smiling he gave them a gentle squeeze, while gazing affectionately into Damian's annoyed glare.

"Remember, Li'l D, you'll need to take the bus today, 'cause I won't be picking you up," he said softly. "So, play nice with others on the bus, okay?"

_::T-t::_ "You know I do not like taking that ridiculously outdated mode of transportation," Damian grumbled. "I'm perfectly fine waiting for you out here." He hated the idea of riding the bus because some of the older, bigger kids tended to tease him. It was all Damian could do to hold on to his considerable temper and not tear into them. As a result, Dick rarely required him to ride it.

"I know…but the bus ride home is only 20-30 minutes tops, D," Dick said soothingly, "and I feel better knowing you're not waiting alone for me to come get you… You know, in case…?" Dick didn't need to finish the last sentence. There were numerous fill-in-the-blank choices of imminent disaster he could pick from:_ your mom's goons show up; the zombie apocalypse comes; the Justice League is replaced by pod-people. _

Damian nodded reluctantly. "Very well… but you'll owe me. And that imbecile Neidermeyer better not open his stupid mouth, or I won't be held responsible for my actions." He was referring to the primary bully who had tried to make his life miserable the few times that he had ridden the school bus home.

Dick's lips twitched in amusement. "Okay… Just promise me you won't kill him or maim him for life."

"What's in it for me?"

"How about your choice of using the _downstairs_ computer for a rousing game of _StormWalkers_ or a _Star Wars_ movie marathon with strawberry milkshakes, popcorn—the whole works—this weekend, if Neidermeyer survives the bus ride home relatively unscathed?"

"How about both _StormWalkers_ and a _Star_ _Wars_ marathon… and I let Neidermeyer survive to bully his fellow classmates for another year at Stevens?" Damian countered smugly, knowing he held all the cards.

Dick smirked, giving in gracefully, knowing it was the best compromise he would get. "Okay, fine. You win—a complete geek-out weekend it is." Smiling, he added, "Now, did you remember your homework?"

Eye roll, nod.

"Textbooks?"

Impatient nod.

"Notebooks, pens, pencils, flash drive?"

Bat-glare.

"Phone? Utility belt?"

Arms crossed. Bat-glare. Red-faced frown.

Grinning, Dick stood and tousled Damian's hair. "There's the little pug face I know and love."

Damian responded with an annoyed huff as he expertly ducked under Dick's arm and quickly headed toward the school's front entrance. "Let's turn that frown upside-down!" Dick called as he waved goodbye. "Have a great day, D!" Nearby students snickered at Damian's embarrassment.

"Idiot," the Boy Wonder grumbled, glaring at the audience who were enjoying his discomfort. Of course, he had his utility belt. It was the first thing that Grayson had impressed upon him when he gave Damian the job of Robin—never leave home without it. As for the rest of the items mentioned? _In the grander scheme of things, does homework really matter when your mother is Talia al Ghul?_ He wondered darkly.

Heading toward his locker, Damian thought about Dick's parting words. Behind the lighthearted teasing, his brother had told him he loved him in so many words. "Idiot," he muttered again, but his lips twitched upwardly as he said it…

**End of Part 6**

**Author's Note:** I'm back! Sorry, it's taken me so long to return to posting, but the summer was exceptionally busy. I am currently getting back into the swing of writing, but it's slow going. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has continued to read, favorite, and review my story. This wasn't beta'd because I really wanted to post something after not having done so in quite some time. Sorry for any mistakes, as they are entirely my fault.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: September 2013


	7. Chapter 7 - The Wheels on the Bus

**Summary**: Bruce and Dick investigate. Damian takes the school bus. (Nothing good can come of this…)

(Un) Fortunate Son

By Syl Francis

"_There's no other love like the love for a brother." _

_(Terri Guillemets)_

_* D * d * d * D *_

Dick watched as Damian disappeared inside the school. _That went easier than expected. _Smiling, he got into the jeep to head for home.

As he pulled out onto the main road, a grimace replaced the smile. He hoped he was wrong. He hoped that he had been in error last night when he broke into the secure servers of Cadmus, a scientific think tank and research laboratory known for its questionable ethics. However, a tracer that suddenly appeared around his search parameters told him otherwise. He had been trying to follow the trail behind the cloning technology that Cadmus had developed illegally. It was the same tech that the al Ghuls had stolen and perfected.

More importantly, it was believed that the original head of the organization, Dabney Donovan, was killed in an industrial accident shortly after Cadmus tried to clone Superman. What caught Dick's attention was that Donovan was a dead ringer to the scientist behind the neural implant technology that Talia used on Damian. Dick only caught a glimpse of him when he raided Talia's compound a year ago to rescue Damian; however, he would never forget the face. Although they hadn't been formally introduced, Dick had taken an inordinate delight in punching the scientist more times than necessary, while trashing the neural control center.

As soon as Dick found Donovan's personnel file photo, he detected the unique cybertags of an aggressive spyware program rapidly closing in on him. He had been afraid that he wouldn't be able to pull out before the cyber-dogs sniffed him out and he was ID'd; thankfully, whoever was on the other end wasn't equal to Dick's cyber-skills. Still, it had been touch-and-go for a brief time, and he was only too glad to escape unscathed. He hoped.

Today, Dick intended to spend the greater part of his afternoon downstairs conducting a cyber search. If Donovan was part of Talia's organization, then her plans to clone Damian became even more frightening. Donovan had successfully solved the inherent problem of cloning Kryptonian DNA by fusing it with that of a human; what was to stop him from combining Damian's DNA with an unknown monster?

Leviathan the Heretic was frightening enough with his enhanced human DNA. What if Talia cloned yet another Leviathan, but this time combined his DNA with illegally obtained meta-human or even nonhuman DNA? After all, while he was head of Cadmus, Donovan had had unrestricted access to human genome research that was considered Top Secret. What kind of monster might Donovan's association with Talia result in?

Dick wished he had Babs and Tim to assist him, but he couldn't contact them without running the risk of being discovered by either Bruce or Talia. Okay… Dick still had faith left in Bruce despite being deeply disappointed in him at the moment. Besides, with Bruce currently on a worldwide hunt for Talia, Dick was beginning to believe that his mentor had at last come to his senses.

_* D * d * d * D *_

Half a world away, Batman checked the time. Several hours had passed but the frenzied activity in the underground complex was finally slowing down. There was still a heavy guard presence in and around the different levels, with single and double sentries posted outside important rooms, but nothing he couldn't handle. Following a real time holographic map of the complex, Batman quickly found the personnel office. According to the security files that he'd hacked earlier, this was where the ID badges were issued.

Batman had already found ten names authorized a red badge. He just needed to find the scientists' shift schedules and the location of their quarters. When he had that information, then all he had to do was lie in wait as the scientist he selected returned home.

_Piece of cake as Nightwing would say_.

* _D * d * d * D * _

Dick spent the better part of the afternoon hacked into several Ultra Top Secret, and in some cases, illegal databases from around the world. He hacked Interpol without breaking a sweat, trolling its cyber-secrets for the better part of an hour for any information it might have on Talia and Donovan. While Interpol had almost nothing on Talia al Ghul (or Talia Head) other than the usual public records, it did have a fairly informative file on Dabney Donovan. Unfortunately, the file ended abruptly with the public debut of Superboy a few years ago and Donovan's supposed death.

He then hacked into the Central Bureau of Intelligence and Checkmate, but immediately ran into a dead end as all secret files on cloning research had been purged. He attempted to follow the deleted files' invisible cyber residue, but whoever had expunged them had known what he or she was doing, leaving almost nothing for him to latch onto—except for one clue. Dick found a mention of an _A. Waller_ hidden under several layers of security.

_A. Waller… As in Amanda Waller?_ He thought. Nodding to himself, Dick began the next phase of his cyber-search, and perhaps his most dangerous. He went deeper into the cyber-world, breaking in through several backdoors left carelessly unlocked by lazy cyber-techs. He released a cyber-worm that zeroed in on any simultaneous mention of _Waller_ and _cloning, _then sat back to wait. After almost thirty minutes of searching, he got his first hit. This was followed shortly thereafter by several more. And surprise, surprise! Dick discovered a definite link between Waller and Donovan: The two worked at Cadmus Labs at the same time.

Which meant that she was probably involved in Project Kr while she was there. Element 36 or Kr was better known as Krypton, which was not only an inert gas on Earth—but also the name of Superman's home planet. Project Kr, the project name for cloning Superman, had resulted in the creation of Superboy. According to Waller's personnel file, she had been forced to retire after President Luthor's untimely removal from office; however, shortly thereafter, she was reinstated into government service under the new administration.

_So… _Dick mused. _Waller and Donovan had probably known each other and worked together on the same cloning project. I think it's time for Nightwing and Robin to come out of retirement and pay a little visit to Ms. Waller._

* _D * d * d * D *_

Batman again checked the time. It was getting on to 3:00 a.m. local time. Looking down at the supine form of his chosen target, Batman quickly double-checked the bindings and gag. The captive was secure for now. Running a diagnostic on his latest disguise, Batman compared his appearance with that of his unconscious victim and felt confident that he would pass muster. According to the man's personnel file, he was Dr. Giles Clifford, a British scientist specializing in molecular nanobiotechnology. Batman searched the small, three-room quarters but was disappointed to find it completely clean, with no evidence of the purpose behind the Red Badge Only project.

More importantly, he still had not found any evidence that Talia was anywhere on the premises. And yet, from everything he'd been able to observe, he'd finally come to realize that this wasn't a mercenary base, but rather a recruiting and training base for the League of Shadows. The personnel he had seen being processed into the facility were new League recruits. He knew that Talia's army had been hit hard by the timely arrival of the world's greatest heroes during the Battle of Gotham; what he hadn't known was just how hard of a hit the League of Shadows had taken.

This would explain why so many of their known locations had been either abandoned or reduced in manpower. It appeared that Talia was putting all of her eggs in this one basket. She intended to rebuild—and fast. This was why it was so important for the Dark Knight to find out what lay behind the Red Badge Only secured doors. Was it another cloning project? The facilities at Infinity Island had been abandoned, and Bruce had destroyed whatever had been left behind. Had they transferred their little science project over here?

Bruce intended to find out. Tonight.

* _D * d * d * D *_

Nightwing was seated at the main computer console, double-checking his findings. In the past three years, several renowned scientists from around the world in a variety of fields—from molecular nanobiotechnology to nanomedicine to DNA nanotechnology—had failed to show up for work within a few weeks of each other. It appeared as if they had suddenly walked away from their positions in universities, research and development, hospitals, and government think tanks. Most had been reported missing, but no trace or clue as to their whereabouts had been found.

That is, all except a British scientist—Dr. Giles Clifford—who had told his family and friends that he had been offered a chance of a lifetime. According to his sister, Clifford had spoken of a highly classified, highly lucrative opportunity that he couldn't pass up. That was one year ago, and the family hadn't heard from him since.

Dick couldn't tie the missing scientists to the League of Shadows or Talia, but it was highly suspicious that they had all gone missing around the same time, not long before the Battle of Gotham. While he waited for Damian, Dick went through the equipment checklist again, making sure he had fully restocked the Batwing's equipment lockers.

He'd also stocked the onboard cooler with sandwiches, snacks, and bottled water for the trip back to Washington, D.C. Dick had been seriously taken aback by the amount of food that one ten-year-old boy could consume in the course of a single day—not to mention a whole week. Unlike when he lived alone in Bludhaven, eating haphazardly at best, with a growing boy fully dependent on him, Dick found himself constantly shopping for groceries and preparing healthy meals. He honestly had no idea how Alfred had managed to keep up with the ever-growing and changing, all-male Wayne household.

He checked the time impatiently; it was already 3:00 p.m., which meant that Damian would be home soon. Dick wanted to head out shortly afterward. He had been keeping a close eye on the weather all afternoon while he waited. Doppler radar showed a cold front quickly moving in, expecting to bring a wintry mix with it. He wanted to be long gone before that happened. With the nation's capital a little over two thousand nautical miles away, they'd make it there in a little over one hour traveling at hypersonic speeds.

Meanwhile, Dick was running a locator program to find the best place to confront Waller. They would need to move quickly, using tactics designed to shock and keep her off balance. He rarely used such methods when interrogating a suspect—he had been known as the _nice_ Batman for a reason—however, in this case they would have no choice. Dick wasn't sure which would make Damian happier: the enhanced interrogation methods he was planning to use against Waller or simply knowing that the wait was over.

It was time to take back their lives.

The next instant an alarm sounded on the computer console. Dick froze momentarily, mesmerized by the red blinking light. It was Damian's utility belt alarm.

* _D * d * d * D *_

Damian climbed onboard the school bus. A little girl looked up as he headed toward his seat and smiled at him. Damian's usual scowl softened a bit.

"Hi, Davey! You're riding the bus today…cool!"

"Hello, Libby," Damian said managing not to roll his eyes at her obvious statement. He searched for something else to say, but in the end, he just returned her wave as he headed toward his usual seat. Nodding at his seatmate, Damian removed his book bag as he sat down.

Across the aisle, Libby was happily chattering away about her day. He didn't really know her well enough to be friends; she was just someone who always greeted him with a happy smile and a wave whenever he rode the bus. She was nice, but annoying—almost like a little girl version of Grayson at his most irritating.

"Stop 2C coming up!" the driver announced. "Libby, Jeffrey, and Tommy—start getting your stuff together." The three children scrambled to retrieve their books and scattered possessions as the bus pulled up to the curb. As the pneumatic doors hissed open, four armed men unexpectedly forced their way into the bus. The gunmen took up positions in the front and back, their professional, no-nonsense movements shown by their menacing expressions.

Simultaneously, two other men dressed all in black from head to toe walked slowly up the center aisle. They were each armed with two swords that were currently sheathed in crossed holsters on their backs. Wordlessly, the men methodically scanned the students with a handheld device. As they got near Damian, the two men paused, taking in the readings. Before Damian could even react, they yanked him unceremoniously out of his seat. The situation deteriorated so rapidly that Damian's hands were cuffed behind his back, and his face covered by a black bag, while he was still trying to get his bearings.

The men shouted over the children's screams, punctuating their threats with a burst of automatic fire over their heads. The children's muffled sobs and frightened whimpers sounded even more terrified. Over the confusing mix of childish crying and threatening growls, Damian heard Libby shriek, "_Stop it_! You're hurting Davey!"

"_Libby_!" he shouted, struggling against his bindings, trying to throw himself in the direction of her voice. A sharp prick on back of his neck was followed by a fast-spreading numbing sensation. Before long the children's screams faded into the distance, until all sound stopped completely, and all that was left was darkness.

**End of Part 7**

**Author's Note:** Thankfor the welcome back and nice comments.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: September 2013


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